


Taking Back Fun Day

by SaskiaK



Series: The Fabulous Killjoys [3]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: Sequel to The Collector - Evelyn Hart wants Fun Ghoul back and will go to any lengths or expense to achieve that goal, but she’s not the only one...





	1. In Trap Number 1 - Fun Ghoul

Inside the diner, Red stood in the kitchen humming happily to herself as she busied herself cooking dinner. She admired the busy shelves and the small chest freezer that she knew was fully stocked. After rescuing Party, they had returned to Candi and Ice’s apartment, where Ghoul had recalled seeing numerous boxes in the basement. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but with hindsight they wanted to return to check them out. They had been right to. Stacked high from floor to ceiling were boxes filled with supplies that had been meant for distribution to the citizens of Dust Bowl. Candi had been clever enough to supply most of the deliveries but it seemed had always held some back for her and Ice’s personal use or for sale. Red reflected on their part in the capture of the Killjoys and the fact that they clearly already had no shortage of money. They were greedy and had paid with their lives. The only person she held any sympathy for was Jet for having to kill someone he thought was a friend, someone he believed he could trust. Killing never sat well with Jet; Kobra had explained it in terms of Jet having less anger in him than the others and, yes, she could accept that idea, but there always seemed to be more to it than that. Perhaps, one day, he would discuss it with her, but she didn’t want to press the matter; certainly not with Candi and Ice’s deaths so recent in his memory.

Before leaving Dust Bowl they had distributed most of the supplies that they had discovered. In addition, they found thousands of carbons stacked in wads. Giving the bulk to build a new hospital and most of the rest to an orphanage. They had held some money and supplies back for themselves. They almost felt guilty at the decision, as they would normally consider such items as luxuries, but they had to pay Kami for the clothes she had made for them all and they so desperately wanted to eat some real food. They had recovering to do - Party from torture, Kobra from his operation to remove the governor in his neck, Ghoul from his operation following the explosion in the hospital and the others simply from exhaustion. Somehow, a bottle of water didn’t seem so much of a luxury any more. Now the shelves were stocked and Red was making dinner.

It wasn’t as if anyone expected her to take over the cooking, she had volunteered - after tasting their attempts. Jet could cook some reasonably decent eggs on a good day, Kobra’s food was usually edible, Party’s was most definitely not and a can of Power Pup generally tasted better than whatever Ghoul managed to get to a plate. If you wanted something burnt, he was your man, otherwise, not so much. She wasn’t a chef by a long way, neither had she learned to cook, but to them, her touch in the kitchen was magical and they had begged her to keep cooking. She hadn’t taken much convincing - she didn’t want to eat their food either.

To their consternation however, she had insisted on a few changes in exchange. She had originally thought she was pushing her luck somewhat, but insisting that they washed regularly, both themselves and their clothes had been agreed to surprisingly easily. Jet wanted to be a model big brother perhaps, Kobra had made no secret of the fact that he loved her and would do pretty much anything for her approval - even wash - but incredibly Party and Ghoul had followed suit. She didn’t know, of course, how much pressure was brought to bear on them from the others, but she likened herself to Snow White forcing the dwarfs to get their act together. It always drew a smile to her face when she thought back to watching the movie as a small child and now here she was - Snow White but with only four dwarfs. She chuckled to herself again - well, maybe just one actually qualified?

Today she was making Ghoul’s favourite - ‘vegetables with vegetables’ and it was taking the form of a vegetable stir fry, using a packet of sauce that merely described itself as Chinese along with a huge pan of rice. What wasn’t eaten tonight would be recycled for lunch. It was a practical way of using up food that had come to the end of their usable shelf life. Most of the fresh vegetables and salad items were almost used up. From here they would use frozen, but it was still wonderful in comparison to their usual foul tasting and highly questionable canned dog food.

Looking through the hatch to the diner, she watched what everyone was doing while she waited for the rice to finish cooking. Jet was picking out a tune on his guitar and Party and Kobra were playing cards, occasionally getting loud and animated. 

“Where’s Ghoul?” She finally asked, noticing he was nowhere to be seen.

Jet looked up and noticed the light outside.

“Still fixing the car by the look of it.” 

He raised a questioning eyebrow towards the booth in which Party and Kobra were seated in case they had any different information. Looking up, they merely nodded before Party broke away with a loud shout at some perceived cheating on Kobra’s part.

“Well, dinner’s nearly ready,” Red replied. “About three or four minutes.”

Jet offered an appreciative smile as the aromas from the kitchen finally made their way over to him.

“What are we having?” He asked, placing his guitar on its stand and getting to his feet and noticing he was salivating as he thought about eating.  
“Ghoul’s favourite - Veg in some sorta sauce with rice,” Red grinned at the vagueness of the description.  
“Lovely!” Jet beamed sounding genuinely interested as he walked over. “Doubt he’ll be much longer, it’s getting pretty dark out there.” He nodded in the direction of the main doors.

*

Fun Ghoul stood up, the cool desert night air blowing his black hair across his face, tickling his nose and causing him to crumple his face in an attempt to avoid the sneeze that was likely to overtake him. The sensation remained and he wiped the end of his irritated nose on his sleeve, rather than smear oil and grime on his face, again. It seemed to help but there was a part of him that believed that all he had done was to delay the inevitable. The sneeze was in there, waiting patiently for him to lose concentration then when he least expected it, it would strike. Oh yes, he knew all about sneezes, he knew how cunning they could be.

He looked back down at the engine; he was working on the trans am again. It had taken him the better part of three days so far and it was still not working. It was strange because he’d managed to get it working the previous day, but somehow overnight it had broken down again. 

Four nights ago, Kobra was at the wheel when, Ghoul assumed, he had pushed it too hard - again. He and Jet had returned to the diner with the car which had which had limped most of the way, coughing out black fumes and screaming with the sounds of metal scraping on metal. The final three miles, the two men had pushed the ailing car back to the diner, glad of the cover of darkness and the limited risk of a drac patrol. 

He didn’t know exactly what Kobra did with the car - well, no that wasn’t strictly true. Kobra regularly thrashed the engine to within an inch of its metal life but this time it seemed he’d pushed it an inch too far. Ghoul knew the engine desperately needed oil, almost all of the car’s existing supply had somehow leaked out, hence the screaming from the moving parts. He had found a significant leak the night before and repaired it, but a simple test showed that there must have been at least one other and until he could find them he could not replenish the car’s tank. Could there be multiple leaks? A rupture maybe? There was no way he could risk diminishing their supplies further by pouring oil into a leaking car.

His last three hours had been spent looking for the other source of the leak but repeatedly he came up empty. Eventually reaching for the hose that he had repaired the previous night, he pulled it up so he could check his repair. Frowning deeply in confusion, he saw that his repair had failed completely and not only had the previous crack in the hose reappeared, but had somehow widened. He shook his head at the sight of it; surely no one had tried to use the car? But how else could it have happened? 

There really was only one possibility - sabotage. Yes, they were on Route Guano, one of the more well travelled roads in the Zones, but out there in Zone 6? Hardly anyone passed by. The puzzle left Ghoul staring at the hose and chewing his lower lip. They had seen no one for days. What was going on? Was he paranoid? Worrying over nothing?

 

Either way, in the short term, he needed to get the car working but he didn’t have a spare hose and it would be even more difficult to fix again - not that the previous night’s fix had held. The sealant hadn’t worked, maybe if he taped it up it would last long enough to get to Larry’s Auto Shop? He wasn’t that far away, just Zone 5, but he didn’t want it to break down in the middle of the desert again. It was time to beg the use of Doctor Death Defying’s van once more. Ghoul smiled to himself; the Doc never refused, but it always helped to tell him how much it was appreciated. He chuckled to himself as he lowered the hood of the trans am; it was always good to tell anyone how much he or she was appreciated.

“Ghoul!” Red called from inside the diner. “Dinner’s ready!”  
“I’ll be right there!” He called back.

Wiping his hands on a rag to get the bulk of the oil off his fingers, he threw it down on the car. As he did a faint, distant noise drew his attention. It sounded familiar yet not at the same time; perhaps as if it was something he hadn't heard for a long time. It began as a soft fluttering sound that seemed to be coming from the sky, like a thousand bats all flapping their wings at once. With a furrowed brow, Ghoul stared upward. As yet he could see nothing but the noise was growing steadily louder. Now it reminded him of a swarm of insects, perhaps locusts, but with a deep throbbing undercurrent.

Still uncertain, one thing he did know now was it was a man-made sound and he reached for his gun. Before his fingers closed on the butt, he grimaced and raised his hand up to his neck as something stung him.

“Ow!” 

Lowering his hand to see what his fingers had closed on, he frowned as instead of an insect that had bitten or stung him, a small piece of pointed metal lay between his fingers. 

“O..oh,” he gasped as immediately his senses began to swim and his knees buckled underneath him.  
“Ghoul!” Came the shout once more. “Get in here or Kobra’s gonna eat it all!”

Ghoul was already collapsing to the floor, hearing only a roaring in his ears as his quickening heart now pumped wildly, the rushing of his blood drowning out all sounds as blackness fell over his eyes. Vaguely aware of two sets of hands on him, he swallowed before trying to shout for help but not even a whisper emerged. In reality, it was unlikely he even managed to part his lips.

*

Inside the diner, the card game now abandoned, Party and Kobra had made room for the five of them to sit at the booth. Everything was ready, plates, forks a big bowl of rice and another containing the colourful, delicately scented stir fry, the dark sauce clinging to the various vegetables somehow not diminishing their colours - a rainbow of red, orange, yellow green and purple. Party checked the time and rolled his eyes as a minute or two later there was still no sign of Ghoul. Kobra was already helping himself. He was hungry and waiting for Ghoul to tear himself away from the engine before washing at least his hands and face was not on his agenda. There was a strong risk of the food going cold if he waited, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. As soon as Kobra placed the ladles back down, Jet was picking them up; he agreed with Kobra, but told himself that Red had worked hard and he was going to eat it while still warm. Almost as an afterthought, he dished up a portion for Red too. Now only Party was seated at the table with an empty plate. He sighed; if anyone was going to fetch Ghoul, it would have to be him.

“Don’t eat my food!” He pointed at Kobra, a severe and determined expression on his face, as he pushed himself to his feet. “Or Ghoul’s.”  
Kobra merely grinned in return. “You got two minutes, Party, then it’s fair game,” he replied between mouthfuls.  
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Red admonished.  
“I’d prefer you don’t talk with your mouth open,” Jet smirked as Party grabbed a flashlight and headed for the door.

Even before Party arrived at the door he could hear the increasingly loud whirring and fluttering that Ghoul had noticed. He wasn’t certain what the sound was, but he knew it was something to be concerned about and whatever that something was, it was close.

“Something’s wrong!” He called back to the others and all heads turned to the door. Within moments of Party stepping outside as he began to shout. “Ghoul! Ghoul, where the fuck are you?”

All three had already dropped their forks immediately and had headed outside to see Party standing near the trans am, alternately staring up, searching for the source of the loud thrumming sound and aiming his flashlight on two sets of footprints in the sand, clearly deep impressions, heading around the back of the diner. 

No longer hearing anything above them, Party realised that the source of the noise was now coming from the rear of the diner, perhaps even behind the motel that stretched even further back.

“At the back!” He yelled as he was joined by the others. 

Simultaneously the sound of a car screeched along the highway behind them and the whirring sound altered in tone as something began to rise behind the diner.

“What the hell?” Kobra cried at the sight of what they now realised was a helicopter with its running lights switched off.

Party and Kobra looked up, reaching for their guns as Jet and Red turned toward the road. As the black car with tinted windows neared them, Jet and Red opened fire. Unable to see the occupants, Jet aimed for the driver and Red for the back seat as the movement of the rear window caught her eye. Party and Kobra both fired upward towards the quickly rising helicopter. At first they saw the flash of scorched metal as the laser hit its target, but within a few more moments it seemed to have pulled out of range, unable to see it clearly in the dark they couldn’t be certain.

Gasping as she felt a sharp pain, Red kept firing for a few moments until she too dropped to the ground. Behind her Kobra did the same. Alarmed, both Party and Jet reset themselves, blocking the firing line to their fallen friends. Almost as quickly as it had started, it was over. The car pulled away with it’s wheels spinning on the asphalt before heading back down the long highway and the helicopter was already only a vague fluttering sound in the distance.

The car had travelled no more than fifty yards before an explosion ripped it apart, sending flames and pieces of metal far into the surrounding area. The blast pushed outwards, taking Party and Jet by surprise, lifting both off their feet and hurling them over six feet from where they had been standing. Crashing heavily to the ground, Party was unconscious purely from the blast and was lucky enough not to feel the discomfort of landing. Jet huffed in shock and pain as it seemed the ground had risen rapidly to meet him. Hurt and disoriented, his head spinning and the volume of the explosion temporarily deafening him, he had no choice but to close his eyes. Within moments, he too was unconscious.

*

The helicopter landed smoothly on a large expanse of lawn in the grounds of the mansion as the time was nearing midnight. As the blades began to slow, a tall man wearing a suit, his hair dark and slicked back smiled and nodded. He had arrived.

It had taken some effort certainly; few people would believe that they would be prepared to go to such lengths to catch their prey. But they had been determined and resources had not been a problem. He watched as two men jumped down from the helicopter and began unloading their cargo - the still deeply unconscious form of Fun Ghoul. From behind the seats, one of the men pulled out a collapsible gurney and lowered the wheels, securing them. The other man lay Ghoul on top as they both fastened wrist, ankle, leg and chest restraints - partly to stop him falling off but mostly to prevent him fighting should he wake. Satisfied that they had completed their task, one of the men turned to the man who had walked from the mansion to meet them.

“Where do you want him, Mr Sorby?” He asked politely.  
“This way,” Sorby indicated with the flick of his hand before leading them toward a side entrance to the mansion.

Walking through a maze of corridors, Sorby led the men with their precious cargo to a goods elevator. 

“Thank you for your assistance, gentlemen, I can take it from here.”

Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, Sorby removed his wallet and handed each man a large bundle of carbons.

“If you go back to the helicopter, my pilot will take you anywhere you need to go.”  
“Thanks, Mr Sorby, but that won't…”  
“I have security to think about and I don't want you seen leaving the mansion,” Sorby snapped and frowned deeply. “Go to the helicopter and get the pilot to take you out. Understand?”  
“Yes, sir,” the man replied sheepishly.  
“Good,” Sorby nodded. “Be sure that you do.”

Stepping inside the elevator and pulling the gurney in with him, Sorby closed both the outer and inner doors then pressed the button to take the lift down to the basement. The journey barely took a few seconds but it did give Sorby chance to stare down at the gurney. He thought it amazing that the two men had been relatively gentle with their victim. He noted a small bruise on his forehead but it was possible that had occurred when he fell after being tranquillised. Otherwise, he seemed unhurt and quite peaceful.

Opening both elevator doors in the basement, Sorby pushed the gurney into the cellar. It was vast, almost half the length of the entire mansion; the walls dark and cold. It seemed at first glance to be the type of place you would expect to see water streaming down the walls, and a dozen or more rats huddled in the corners. However, in reality, the cellar was quite dry, comfortable and its temperature and humidity carefully monitored and regulated for optimum storage. Along the entire length of one wall and floor to ceiling on rack after rack, lay countless pre-war bottles of wine: red, rosé, white, champagne all of varying vintages and from a variety of vineyards. Across the back wall lay a selection lay a smaller selection of dry, sweet and cream sherry, red, white and tawny port and several oak barrels of Scottish whisky and even a few Irish whiskeys. Along part of the final wall and much of the centre stood a sixteen by twelve feet cage, bolted in several places to the floor and wall, its door standing conveniently open. Inside and against the wall stood a comfortable looking bed, a toilet and a sink, with a small stack of towels. One section of the bars had been closed off roughly four inches from the floor and was about sixteen inches wide - large enough for a plate of food to be passed through, perhaps a bottle of water, but little else. Between each bar lay a fine transparent mesh. Tough and durable, it would stop him reaching through the bars, but Sorby knew it had another, much more sinister, purpose.

Bringing the the gurney to a complete stop, Sorby tested Ghoul to see if he were awake by slapping his cheek hard. If he had been even barely awake, Sorby knew he would react in some way - a sound, a grimace, something. But on receiving no response, Sorby began unfastening the restraints across Ghoul’s legs and chest, leaving his wrists until last. By the time he had finished, the helicopter pilot had joined him. Waiting until the blond man had drawn up alongside him, Sorby spoke.

“Did you take out the two men who flew in with you?” Sorby asked without emotion; barely bothering to look him in the eyes.  
“Yeah,” the pilot nodded. “Both dead. I’ll dispose of the bodies after this.”  
“And the two in the car?”  
“Seems to have had a bomb in it,” the pilot chuckled.  
“They were still in it?” Sorby asked.  
“Oh, yeah,” he laughed again. “Going pretty fast according to the tracker.”  
“Thanks,” Sorby nodded, relieved to have no witnesses other than his long-term and trusted pilot. “Probably keen to get paid.” Sorby sneered. “You got the money I gave the two who came in with you?”  
“Of course, Mr Sorby,” the pilot reached into his jacket to retrieve the cash.  
“No, keep it. Think of it as a bonus.”  
“Thanks, Mr Sorby!” The pilot’s blue eyes widened at the substantial gift.  
“Give me a hand with this,” he asked nodding to Ghoul’s still unconscious form.  
“Yes, sir,” the pilot replied, still buoyed up by his good fortune.

Lifting him between them, it was an easy matter for them to carry him to the bed, depositing him with little care or attention. At the side of the bed lay four metal cuffs that he wasted no time fastening around Ghoul’s wrists and ankles. 

“Let’s see you or your friends get you out of that,” Sorby spat the words with a sneer.  
“What do they do, Mr Sorby?” The pilot asked, puzzled by what appeared to be nothing more than chunky jewellery.

“One of my inventions,” Sorby sneered. “Electromagnetic cuffs. They will hold firm to each other or any metal surface at the press of a button. They will also give very unpleasant electric shocks. They’ll keep him under control. Maybe not at first, but given enough pain, he’ll learn. Even Pavlov’s Dogs learnt, I’m sure he can.”

The pilot merely laughed as they both turned to leave. Locking the barred door firmly behind him, Sorby walked to an open grey box on the wall to the left of the cage and pulled a lever located inside. Momentarily, the mesh between the bars seemed to make a gentle fizzing sound and one or two flies that had settled on the mesh suddenly burst into flames and dropped to the floor. Closing the hatch over the lever, he locked it and, without even a backward glance, both he and the pilot headed back to the elevator.

“What are you going to do with the bodies?” Sorby asked conversationally.  
“Acid, probably,” the pilot shrugged. “Don’t worry, Mr Sorby, there won’t be anything left of them soon.”  
“I’m not worried, Bob,” Sorby smiled. “I know I can rely on you.”


	2. The Aftermath is Secondary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul meets his captor and what’s happened to the rest of the Killjoys?

Ghoul frowned, his brow creasing as he became increasingly aware of the cold seeping into his bones. It was a deep, all pervasive chill that almost ached and it was waking him up. Drawing a hand up to his head, his frown deepened further as a grinding, throbbing headache made it difficult to concentrate. Finally able to open his eyes, Ghoul groaned softly as his eyes began to focus on the bars of the cage.

“Oh!” He croaked almost soundlessly. “Fan-fucking-tastic!”

Slowly, he pushed himself up until he was sitting, hunched but mostly upright on the bed. His eyes, that had at first been firmly fixed on the bars of the cage, now rested on the metal cuffs locked around his wrists. Staring with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity, he rested his elbows on his legs to examine them. There didn’t seem to be an obvious lock; they could only be electromagnetic and they weren’t cheap or even easy to build. Ghoul scowled; the other thing they were was impossible to pick. He wasn’t certain over their purpose but he couldn’t help but recall the circle of metal that had been locked around his neck at Hart’s museum. It had prevented him moving beyond a predefined perimeter and he wondered if perhaps they performed a similar function? But if so, why the cage? One thing he was sure of - they weren’t intended to be decorative.

Despite still feeling quite weak from the drug, Ghoul slowly got to his feet and took a minute to steady himself. Everything seemed to need to happen in slow motion and he felt that if he either tried to think or move quickly in any capacity, he would at the very least crash to the floor in a disoriented heap or at worst be violently sick. It seemed like all the worst aspects of a hangover but without any of the fun.

Looking around as he slowly recovered his senses, he saw that the cage, whilst quite large, stood near one end of an enormous room that made it seem tiny in comparison. From the brickwork walls, the cold, the dark and what appeared to be bottles of wine and possibly spirits on seemingly endless shelves beginning roughly mid way down the gigantic room, he surmised it to be a cellar. He also had to assume that there was light emanating from somewhere - a cellar with no windows ought to be pitch black and whilst he wasn’t certain he could see to the opposite end, he could definitely see his immediate surroundings. Looking around for a light source, Ghoul was surprised to finally realise that, far from there being individual lights, the entire ceiling was very dimly lit. If he had any doubts about where he might be, that revelation sealed it. The electromagnetic cuffs around his wrists, and now that he was standing he realised also his ankles, and the phenomenal expensive lighting could mean only one thing. He was once more locked up in Evelyn Hart’s museum.

“She’s persistent,” he muttered to himself, slowly rubbing his neck to work out some of the stiffness from having lain, he assumed from how he felt, for quite a long time.

Edging over to the bars, half expecting the cuffs to force him backwards, he was surprised to be able to approach. Raising his hand to inspect the mesh that lay between the bars, he yelped with shock and pain as he was thrown backwards by the force of the electric shock. Landing partly across the bed, he was grateful to be able to break his fall but furious at the extra, and wholly unnecessary, level of security holding him trapped in the cage.

“For fuck’s sake!” He shouted, both angry and frustrated, as he pushed himself to his feet once more.

Somewhere off in the corner of the room, slightly further than the available light offered a clear view, Ghoul could hear the slow approach of an elevator. The scraping sound of the metal gates being pushed back was swiftly followed by the soft pad of leather soled shoes on the stone floor that told Ghoul it was probably a man approaching. Turning his head and peering through the darkness to catch a glimpse of his captor, Ghoul’s heart sank when he saw Sorby’s face.

“Huh! I knew it would be you!” He growled gracelessly.

Sorby chuckled at the disgust in Ghoul’s tone as he headed for the wall-mounted grey box entering a four-digit code, he opened it quickly and shut off the electricity supply to the bars.  
“I see you’ve discovered that the cage is electrified,” Sorby smirked as he returned to stand in front of the cage once more. “Move to the back wall,” he ordered.

Ghoul considered refusing but there was a chance that Sorby might open the cage and if so, standing against the wall wouldn’t give him the safety he seemed to think it would. Moving backwards until his back was against the wall, Ghoul continued talking, hoping perhaps to distract him.

“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘overkill’?” Ghoul asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.  
“You think I’ve taken too many precautions?” Sorby asked with a wry smile.  
“Uh, yeah!” Ghoul’s eyes widened at what he viewed a ridiculous question. “A cage... no, an electrified cage, whatever these are,” he waved his hands to indicate the cuffs, “drugs. Who do you think I am? Harry Houdini?”  
“Well, let me ask you this,” Sorby stepped closer to the bars. “How likely are you to escape?” He asked with a smug smile.

Ghoul’s jaw clenched tightly. There really was only one answer - he had no realistic chance of escape and they both knew it.

“Put your hands up,” Sorby ordered, waving his right hand sharply to indicate an upward motion.  
“Really?” Ghoul raised an eyebrow.  
“Really,” he replied in a flat tone. “I’m coming in, I want to see where your hands are.”

Ghoul tried not to show his elation at the statement; this could be his escape. Sorby seemed unarmed and whilst obviously, tall, broad and strong, Ghoul was a practised and accomplished fighter. If Sorby was underestimating him, it would be his last mistake. Fixing Sorby with a steely stare, Ghoul slowly raised his arms.

Sorby’s eyes met Ghoul’s and without breaking his stare, he reached into his jacket pocket and pressed a button on the small remote. He smirked cruelly as the button activated a powerful magnet fitted behind the wall against which Ghoul was standing. Immediately the cuffs at Ghoul’s wrists and ankles were pulled firmly back against the wall rendering him immobile.

“What the fuck!” Ghoul snapped, infuriated both by his situation and having his hopes of escape dashed so quickly and completely.

Initially refusing to give up on his chance to escape, Ghoul pulled frantically against the powerful force of the magnet. In a matter of less than a minute, Ghoul was once again exhausted, drained and forced to resign himself to the situation.

“What do you want?” He spat angrily, turning a sour and resentful expression back to Sorby.  
“I have what I want,” Sorby offered a self-satisfied smile.

Opening the cage door, he stepped inside, moving closer until he was standing close to Ghoul. In Ghoul’s mind, he was too close. Feeling threatened, the hairs stood up on the back of his neck and he found himself pressing himself further back against the wall to try to regain some personal space. He didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, but Sorby’s proximity made him feel vulnerable and deeply uncomfortable. He wanted nothing more than to be able to move away and put some distance between them but he couldn’t. He had done all he could but Sorby had him pinned, there was nothing more he could do.

Ghoul’s mouth dried as he stared up at the man towering over him. Swallowing, he dug deep to push his fear aside and reclaim his anger.

“How clear do I need to be before she understands that I can never love her?” He snapped finally. “And there is no way she can make me!”  
“I know that,” Sorby took another small step closer, delighting in the obvious discomfort in Ghoul’s eyes; he found it interesting and even amusing that it unnerved him so much. “What makes you think she even knows you’re here?”  
“What...?” Ghoul’s eyes narrowed with confusion at the unexpected statement.

One final step closer and Ghoul’s eyes now widened in shock as Sorby grabbed a handful of his hair and planted his lips firmly, even roughly, on his. Clamping his teeth together in a tight grimace, Ghoul vocalised his fury with guttural screams emerging from deep within. Trying to pull away was impossible; the hold Sorby had on his hair combined with the violence of the kiss kept Ghoul exactly where he wanted him, leaving him no other option than to wait for it to end. Relieved when Sorby finally pulled away with a triumphant smirk on his face, Ghoul vented his rage and indignation at the violation with vehemence.

“You try and stick your tongue in my mouth again, Sorby and I’ll bite it off, you sick fuck!” Ghoul yelled, livid and still struggling to free himself.  
“Sick?” Sorby chuckled. “I know you like men too, so how can you call me sick?”  
“How?” Ghoul’s jaw dropped at the question. “Yeah, I like men, but never in my whole fucking life have I ever chained a guy up and forced myself on him! That’s what makes you sick!” Ghoul raged.  
“Well,” Sorby smiled, “in that case, I won’t try to kiss you again.”

Ghoul frowned with uncertainty; the reply sounded fake, but it was what he wanted. He didn’t know what to believe or how to respond.

“You belong to Miss Hart now,” Sorby nodded. “I will have my own toy to play with soon enough.”  
“What do you mean?” Ghoul’s brow creased further, uncertain if he wanted to hear the reply.  
“Even as we speak, I’m certain your flame haired associate is plotting to rescue you. But don’t worry, he’s expected, and I have the perfect welcome arranged for him.”  
“What? No!”

The terror in Ghoul’s eyes brought an unexpected laugh to Sorby’s lips. Party would know who had taken him purely from the elaborateness of his abduction. He would certainly be planning a rescue and would be expecting high levels of security and danger, but he wouldn’t be expecting a trap.

Still screaming threats and profanities as Sorby walked from the cage, Ghoul continued to struggle, infuriated further by Sorby’s laughter as he locked the door and reset the electric field,. Eventually as Sorby closed the elevator gates and headed several floors up, leaving the cellar in total and utter blackness, Ghoul sagged where he stood, still held in place by the powerful magnet.

“Stay safe, Party,” he whispered miserably. “Please, stay safe.”

*

There was a noise. He could definitely hear it. A short, urgent noise but he was struggling to react. Normally, he would be on his feet by now, but whatever was stopping his brain from functioning was not letting go of its hold in a hurry. He realised only now that he had yet to open his eyes, but that would have to come later, the pounding headache and the overbearing brightness of the room prevented him. He wondered where he could possibly be that the light was piercing and seemingly visible through his eyelids. Briefly he pondered the possibility that he was dead, but it seemed unlikely that even Hell could conjure a headache this bad. Another noise followed; more of a gruff, deep and insistent sound followed by what he recognised as laughter.

“Come on, Kobra.”

The sounds finally formed words.

“I can’t nursemaid you all day,” the gravelly voice spoke again. “I’ve got four of you to look after.”

Kobra half opened his eyes and allowed his head to roll to the right. Despite blurred vision, he could make out the shape of the man next to him.

“Doc?” He asked, his scratchy voice forcing its way through a parched throat.  
“Yeah, Kid,” Dr Death Defying replied with a small sympathetic sigh. “How are you feeling?”  
“What happened?” Kobra questioned, still disorientated.  
“Good question,” the doctor raised an eyebrow. “We found the four of you out cold outside the diner when we got back from Happy Jack’s.”  
“Four?” Kobra narrowed his eyes, confused - his memory of events still hazy.  
“Ghoul’s not here,” he frowned in reply. “The car and the bike are still here. Do you know where he is?”

Kobra scoured his mind for memories from the night, finally remembering Party shouting that something was wrong, followed by a short firefight.

“Someone took him,” he finally managed.  
“Someone?” Death Defying offered a puzzled stare in response. “Crows?”

He found himself shaking his head at the thought that they would take only Ghoul leaving the others unconscious in the sand.

“I don’t know who,” Kobra frowned, struggling to concentrate.  
“Well, who was in the car that’s now scattered all over the desert? Not...” Death Defying stopped speaking with a gasp, having had a sudden terrifying thought that perhaps Ghoul had been killed in the explosion.  
“Helicopter,” Kobra replied, closing his eyes against the hammering inside his head.  
“No helicopter, Kid, definitely a car.”  
“No,” he sighed at the effort of having to explain. “They took Ghoul in a helicopter. I don’t know about an explosion.”  
“They must have got you before it happened,” the doctor nodded. “Hit you and Red with tranq darts. Pretty strong stuff too.”  
“Red?” Kobra opened his eyes again. “Is she okay? And Party... and Jet?”

Kobra seemed visibly shaken as he thought of his brother and friends, desperate for good news.

“Red’s fine but she hasn’t woken yet. Party’s awake, but he doesn’t remember anything about what happened. I think he’s been shaken up by the explosion; I expect he’ll remember soon.”  
“Jet?” Kobra asked again.  
“He must have been caught in the blast too, but he landed badly. His right shoulder and arm is pretty badly bruised. It doesn’t seem to be broken, but without an X-ray I won’t know for sure until he’s woken up. Which reminds me, do any of you have a tuning fork?”

Kobra frowned; the question seemed so out of place.

“Why?” He asked, his brow furrowed as he considered the question.  
“Well, believe it or not, I can use a tuning fork to test for fractures. It’s an old trick we used a lot in the war, there’re no X-ray machines out in the field either.”

Dr Death Defying smiled as Kobra offered a surprised but equally impressed expression.

“Pretty sure Jet’s got one,” he replied with a nod, realising he was starting to feel much less disorientated.  
“Great, I’ll check with him when he wakes. Take it easy, Kid. Don’t get up until you’re feeling okay, I don’t need to hear you’ve collapsed or anything. Pony and I have got it covered. You’ll all be fine, don’t worry.”  
“But Ghoul...” Kobra began as he tried to push himself up, only to find two strong hands pushing him back.  
“... will have to wait until you’re all fit to move. You’re no good to him like that.”

Kobra hated to hear it, but accepting it felt worse. Death Defying was right, but it didn’t mean he had to like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one. Poor Ghoul - well, poor everyone but especially Ghoul because he’s so beautiful (yes, they all are, I know! :D)
> 
> This and Before They Were Fabulous probably won’t get updated quite as regularly as I’d like because I go back to uni on Friday, but I’ll try to update at least one, once per week. I hope that’s okay.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!  
> Sas xx


	3. Pass the Parcel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul is changing hands, but it’s not exactly voluntary and Dr Death Defying assesses his patients

There was no warning, no sound or change in sensation, so when the magnets were switched off, Ghoul found himself crashing to the floor in an uncoordinated heap. Crying out with pain as his muscles screamed their objections to the sudden movement, Ghoul found himself having to stop to remind himself to breathe and to think about where his limbs where and how and where to move them. It wasn’t unexpected that he both ached and felt numb at the same time, but the extent of his disorientation surprised him. As he lay for those brief moments collecting his thoughts and summoning the strength to sit up, he realised that at some point he had fallen asleep while suspended against the wall. He frowned as he considered this, wondering how long he had hung there. The answer seemed to lie in the agony he felt as he tried to draw his arms towards his body. It seemed to him that merely rising from the floor was going to be a slow process.

Slowly inching his arms inward, he swore in frustration as he heard the elevator approaching once more. It made sense that he had been released prior to a visit from, he assumed, one of his captors. They would continue to gloat over his helplessness and take great pleasure in his situation. He frowned deeply as he realised that he was nowhere near prepared to push himself to his feet when he heard the elevator come to a complete stop. What followed confused him, however - instead of the condescending tone he expected from Sorby, he heard an angry and loud argument in process.

“You can’t just walk in here and take what belongs to us!” Sorby shouted; his voice growing in both volume and pitch as he became increasingly desperate for his words to make an impact on their recipient. “We still have legal rights under the terms of the contract!”

Ghoul’s blood chilled at the words: the contract. Was Sorby referring to the agreement between Hart and Miharu, the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit’s director? If so, there really was only one person the odious man could be speaking to. Turning his head and tipping it down to look behind and almost under himself, he swallowed hard as he saw Exterminator Korse walking with long, brisk strides from the elevator, not even caring if Sorby maintained his place alongside him.

Still in pain but without the luxury of time or self-care, Ghoul grimaced as he forced himself to roll, first onto his side, then pushing himself into a seated position. Catching his breath as the pain from his tortured muscles made every attempt to snatch it from him, Ghoul paused briefly to take a few deep, restorative breaths. Before he could push himself into a standing position, or at the very least, sitting on the bed, Korse stood in front of the bars, sneering at the pale, tired and sore young man still seated on the floor of the cage.

“So, Fun Ghoul,” his sneer settled into a smirk. “It looks like I have you again.”  
“No,” Ghoul replied calmly. “They have me again. If only you and your draculoids could do as good a job.”

Korse stared at the Killjoy as he remained seated on the floor, smiling up as he noted Korse’s irritation hardening his expression.

“I don’t care how you come to be my prisoner, the fact remains that that is exactly what you are.”

Sorby stepped forward, placing a hand on Korse’s arm and pulling him back to face him.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Sorby fumed. “You can’t...”  
“I heard you,” Korse growled. “But your opinion is irrelevant.”

As he spoke to Sorby, a low beeping sound announced the arrival of a communication for the draculoid standing alongside him. Listening to the report on the handheld radio, the draculoid nodded and turned to Korse.

“Sir, the VO Wagon is here, shall I fetch the restraining board?”

Korse pondered the question as he stared with curiosity at Sorby, finally responding after a short deliberation. Sorby was a tall and broad, physically powerful looking man and despite being armed, Korse was concerned about the possibility of being overpowered if left alone with him. Turning to address the draculoid his response initially drew a moment of relief from Sorby, but it quickly returned to frustration as he continued.

“No,” he paused. “Have someone bring it.”  
“You are not taking him!” Sorby repeated before continuing with a different question. “How did you even know he was here?”

Korse laughed, certain that Sorby wouldn’t actually want to know the answer.

“Do you think you can take a helicopter out into the Zones at night without us knowing all about it? You do realise you used BLI manned airlocks to exit and enter the dome?”  
“Taking a helicopter out doesn’t tell you what we were doing,” Sorby snapped, the muscles around his jaw tightening with each word.  
“Not on it’s own, no,” Korse smirked. “But when it’s piloted by one of my operatives, that really does turn events in our favour.”  
“One of your...” Sorby’s eyes widened in shock at the news that his long-serving and, he believed, trusted pilot and assistant had been working for BLI all along. Feeling betrayed and fooled, he shook his head and raged. “It changes nothing! You’re not...”  
“I am taking Fun Ghoul,” Korse interrupted with an expression of irritation fleetingly replacing his indifference.  
“Over my dead body!” Sorby snapped in reply.

Korse raised an eyebrow, followed by the corners of his lips. There was something in the change of expression that unnerved Sorby, who immediately took a step backwards. His eyes darted to Korse’s hand as he obligingly reached for his ray gun.

“If you wish,” Korse replied, drawing his weapon.  
“No!” Sorby cried out, throwing his arms out in front of him, his palms facing out in a gesture of panic. “You can’t you’ll never get him out without me! I know all the codes.”  
Korse gave a short condescending laugh. “Ah, yes, but you’re not the only one, are you?”

As if on cue, the sound of the elevator moving cut through the silence and Sorby’s head spun to look behind him. Realising Korse could only be referring to his pilot, Bob, his eyes widened as he looked back just in time to see the blinding bright light laser beam fill the room. It was the last thing he saw. Ghoul watched with alarm as the man who had abducted him twice hit the floor, lifeless and crumpled. It wasn’t that he was sorry the man was dead, but he knew that now he was in a much worse position than he had been. The only thing he took real comfort in was knowing that it was unlikely that he would have set whatever trap he had in mind for Party.

As the elevator doors opened, he heard more than one set of footsteps exiting and knew instantly that he was about to be taken to BLI. Yes, he would put up whatever fight he was able to, but with his strength still not fully regained, he would just be delaying the inevitable.

Finally able to push himself to his feet, if a little unsteadily, Ghoul fixed his eyes on Korse, offering only a defiant and loathing expression and barely even noticing the man heading for the grey box on the wall that controlled the electric current coursing through the wire mesh between each of the bars of the cage. The low hum of electricity ceased suddenly leaving an eerie silence in the cellar interrupted only by the sound of the man’s boots as he returned to stand alongside Korse.

Ghoul’s eyes flickered briefly to look at the blond man who had been Sorby’s pilot and assistant and, as it appeared, also a BLI operative. Trying hard not to let the recognition in his eyes show anywhere in his face, Ghoul transformed his surprise into an angry outburst.

“When I get out of this, I’m going to find you and kill you!” He raged stabbing an accusing finger in the blond man’s direction, before grimacing at the additional pain it caused to his right shoulder, elbow and back. “Slowly!” He added through gritted teeth.  
“Yeah,” Bob smirked and offered a cynical laugh. “Sure you are.”

Bob stepped forward to unlock the cage door, stepping quickly inside, he countered the punch that Ghoul tried to land on him and shoved him forcibly to the floor. Ghoul grunted in pain, trying not to give the taller and broader man the satisfaction of knowing he’d been hurt. He was, however, confused; was this man whom he knew only as Coffin Dancer and an occasional contact of the Killjoys truly one of Korse’s undercover men? Could he be relied upon any more? This man - known in the Zones as The Sad Man - had provided information, often crucial information, to them on numerous occasions. Had he just bided his time to draw them in? No, that didn’t make sense. He had arranged for them to rescue Party from BLI. On Coffin’s information, the Killjoys had driven directly into BLI’s cells and escaped with Party easily. It would have been very easy to arrange a trap for them. That said, they had rescued an android built to look like Party, housing many of his memories. But... Coffin hadn’t known they weren’t rescuing the real Party. Had he?

When trying to explain the Killjoys’ connection to him to Red, Ghoul himself had described Coffin as a mercenary, ready to sell information to anyone for money; but this was the first time he had ever felt in any personal danger from him. To confuse matters further, as the blond man stood over him, he winked at Ghoul. Frowning deeply, as two draculoids were allowed in, he wondered how to respond. If Coffin was solely working for Korse, he was the enemy. If he wasn’t, then he should treat him as if he were the enemy so as not to garner suspicion. Either way, it called for the same response. Gathering all his available strength before the draculoids got to him, Ghoul raised his left leg sharply and found his delicate target between Bob’s legs. Grinning maniacally in furious pleasure, Ghoul watched as the blond man paled, emitted an almost soundless gasp and crumpled to the floor clutching himself, moaning and writhing in agony.

Hands fell on Ghoul, dragging him onto the restraining board while he struggled to pull himself from their grasp, his leg still thrashing in Bob’s direction and trying hard to reach his head. His frantic struggles, seemingly choreographed to Korse’s cruel laughter, ended abruptly as a taser was pressed into his side rendering him immediately unconscious. Korse’s laughter lessened until finally he stopped as the last strap was fastened. As one of the draculoids raised the board at one end and engaged the wheels at the opposite end, Korse indicated to the elevator with a flick of his wrist. As the two draculoids wheeled Fun Ghoul out, Korse stared down in amusement at the blond man, still on the floor but taking deep shuddering breaths to regain his equilibrium.

“Never underestimate the Killjoys,” Korse chuckled as the pale young man raised a hand up to the exterminator for assistance. “Let that be a lesson.”

Turning to leave without offering the help that Bob so desperately needed, Korse waited for the elevator to return. As he stood near the gate, Bob joined him at his side, standing slightly hunched forward and still breathing slowly and heavily. He frowned deeply as he heard another light chuckle escape Korse’s lips.

“I’ll consider myself warned,” he replied through gritted teeth.

*

Doctor Death Defying drove his wheelchair up to the table of one of the long booths and regarded his patients. Kobra and Red had recovered reasonably well from their drug enforced sleep and were busying themselves with Show Pony, making something to eat and another pot of coffee, leaving Party and Jet seated at the booth, both staring grimly at the doctor.

With Jet’s right arm cradled in a sling and Party, pale and still feeling dazed, a rescue operation didn’t seem imminent. Party, mentally berating himself for being concussed, didn’t even hear the question asked of him.

“He must be out of it if he doesn’t respond to that,” Jet shook his head, immediately wishing he hadn’t when a bolt of pain ran down his neck.  
“What was that?” Death asked with a frown.  
“What?” Jet replied cautiously.  
“Don’t play games with me, Jet, I know that was a pain! Your eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets!” Death scolded leaning forward to examine the Killjoy once more.  
“I’m all right!” Jet complained, trying to bat the doctor’s hand away unsuccessfully.  
“Party?” Red repeated, placing a hand gently over his.

Party’s eyes flickered to life and he looked first at his hand then followed the other arm up to see Red’s smiling but concerned face.

“Did you say something?”  
“I just asked if you wanted some coffee?”  
“Please, sorry I was somewhere else,” he replied with a quiet sigh.  
“Don’t worry,” she replied with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “We will be soon,” she added, nodding. “We’ll get him back.”

Death Defying frowned as he sat back in his chair, his expression reproachful, even disappointed.

“Don’t look at me like that, Doc.” Jet spoke softly, his demeanour changing from irritated to guilty.

 _That_ look, that one expression which Death Defying saved exclusively for Jet would always return him immediately to his childhood, growing up in the Rebel Stars camp with the doctor and several other medical unit ex-soldiers who had fought in the Helium Wars. Found by Death Defying and two of his companions - a twelve-year-old, lying alone in the desert, burned, dehydrated and dying, Jet owed his life to those men who cared enough to help him and raise him. But _that_ look had been reserved solely for the occasions when, as a boy, Jet had done something that endangered either himself or another member of the camp. The occasions were relatively few, and mostly due to Jet’s misplaced bravery and initial difficulty following orders if he thought of, what he believed to be, a better plan.

He had learned the hard way just how important it was to follow orders and for everyone to know where everyone would be and what they would be doing. Believing he had found a better position for a raid on a medical convoy of trucks, Jet hadn’t been able to warn the doctor that an outriding draculoid had him in his sights. In order to save Death Defying’s life, Jet was forced to shoot the draculoid. Jet was just thirteen and the enormity of taking someone’s life, no matter what the reason, dealt a sledgehammer blow to his conscience. They were lucky that the raid was still successful and with no camp casualties, but later, back in their hideout, the young boy had crumbled under the weight of his conscience. His companions, though supportive, had known that it was only a matter of time before he took his first life. It was merely the timing that had drawn their concern. A small part of Jet shut down that day, but each subsequent life taken was a reminder and something he would never truly come to terms with.

“When did you plan to tell me about that?” Death folded his arms, tipped his head and raised a questioning eyebrow.  
“I didn’t have a time in mind,” Jet shrugged his left shoulder only.  
“What if your neck was fractured?”  
“I think I’d know,” Jet rolled his eyes.  
“Oh, you think so, do you?” Death Defying scowled. “You mean like the time I got a rifle butt in my back and didn’t realise it was broken? I thought it was a slipped disc, carried on fighting and it severed my spinal cord. Like that, you mean?”

Jet’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. To his right, all movement and sounds ceased in the kitchen and at the counter as everyone stared in their direction.

“I’m sorry, Doc, I... I didn’t realise. I’m really sorry.” Jet appeared mortified to have triggered such a heartfelt and pained response.  
“It’s okay, Jet, just don’t underestimate injuries, that’s all. All of you!” He added to include everyone in the diner. Returning to Jet, he smiled reassuringly, suddenly Jet appeared thirteen once more. “You just pulled a muscle, but you have to tell me. Don’t hide anything because you’re worried I’ll stop you going to find Ghoul.”  
“You would have though, if it were broken,” Jet’s voice remained as small as he felt.  
“If it meant keeping you alive, yes, I would and you’d agree if it were anyone else, wouldn’t you?”

Jet heaved a sigh of resignation.

“Wouldn’t you?” He repeated.  
“Yes, Doc,” Jet shrugged, this time with both shoulders causing him to grimace.  
“I’ll get you a muscle relaxant cream for your trapezius, you’ll feel better soon.”  
“Thanks, Doc,” Jet smiled, now sounding more like himself.  
“Pony!” Death called. “I need you to get something off a shelf for me.”

Show Pony placed the knife he was holding back on the counter and nodded to Red, confirming he would be back soon. Walking over, he fell into stride alongside the motorised wheelchair as the pair headed to the motel reception area that doubled as a medical storage and the radio station. Once out of earshot, Pony chuckled.

“It didn’t happen like that at all, did it?” He commented. “You told me you were blown up and your spine snapped in two places.”  
“No, but he doesn’t need to know that, does he?” Death grinned.  
“Guess not,” Pony laughed in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in updating - still up to my eyes in uni work, but at least it’s the last year now!
> 
> Hope you’re still enjoying it
> 
> Sas xx


	4. Kami gets a shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kami finds out about Ghoul in a shocking way

He was screaming. If he’d had time to think, he’d have wondered where all the air was coming from to make such a long and loud scream. But there was no time and only the slightest of pauses led to the next scream. Throwing his head back as his body jarred and twitched violently, another scream tore through his dry and shredded throat. When finally the electricity ceased coursing through his pain-racked body, he slumped heavily in the chair, held upright only by the strap across his chest. The chair itself appeared as if it were made from one large continuous piece of moulded plastic - solid, unyielding, unforgiving. The arms each held two sets of straps; one for the wrists, another for the lower arm, near the elbow. The lower half - the front, a solid sheet rather than legs supported an adjustable double-looped strap designed for ankles. It was a simple but effective device, but when the wires and head-clamps were attached to the occupant, the result was pure torture.

Fun Ghoul snatched at painful gasps of air, pulled in with difficulty around the soft rubber bar held firmly inside his mouth. His eyes were closed and he was exhausted. He wasn’t being interrogated, no one was even in the room with him. He had no clue as to how long he had been fastened to the chair; it felt like hours, but it could have been minutes or days. He was confused, hungry, thirsty and his head was spinning. For now it had stopped, but he didn’t know how long it would last this time. There had been one cruel point where he had genuinely believed that it was over, and almost as he thought that, the electricity had powered through him once more. Every muscle ached, occasionally twitched and his head pounded. It felt like he had been hit by lightening a thousand times.

Once had been bad enough - it had happened shortly after he had met Jet all those years ago. Even the sand had been scorched where he had been standing; how he had lived was beyond him.

How he was still alive now was beyond him. Slowly getting his breathing back under control, Ghoul waited; he knew it was only a matter of time before the agony would begin again.

*

Kami Kazee stood near the cash register folding a garment before placing it neatly in a bag for her customer. Normally Kami would engage the lady in small talk, but the woman was distracted and turning to look at her friend who seemed unusually excited for a Wednesday morning.

“Look! Look, it’s on again!” She cried, pushing her phone into her friend’s hand.

The woman dropped the carbons she held as the phone suddenly occupied the space she had reserved for the money.

“Now look what you’ve done!” The woman grumbled.  
“Look!” Her friend insisted.  
“What?”  
“BLI have launched a new channel,” she replied excitedly while the woman picked up the dropped money and handed it to Kami.  
“So what?” She replied with disinterest. “None of them are any good unless you’re a Happy, and you want to trip out on the Kaleidoscope channel.”

Kami smiled benignly as she handed the woman her bag and change.

“Do you watch?” The woman asked Kami, catching her by surprise.  
“I don’t have a TV,” Kami lied, deciding it best not to advertise what electronic equipment she possessed.  
“No TV?” The woman frowned. “What do you do?”  
“I design and make clothes or I read.” Kami smiled again.  
“You design these yourself?” The woman’s eyes widened appreciatively.  
“Carly! Look at the screen!” Her friend insisted once more.  
“What?” She snapped in reply. Looking now at the phone, she grimaced, even appearing shocked. “What’s that?” She pushed the phone back into her friend’s hands hastily, almost as if she wanted to distance herself as far from the screen’s content as possible.

“I told you,” she sighed. “BLI’s new channel! It’s their new Traitor channel.”  
“Why in the name of Destroya would they for one second think that anyone would want to watch them torturing rebels?”  
“It’s not just any rebel, though, is it? They’ve got one of the Killjoys!”

Kami paled instantly at the news. Trying not to give herself away in case the woman supported BLI, she feigned a mere passing interest.

“A Killjoy? Are you sure?” She asked. “How? Which one?”  
“See!” The friend snapped. “Normal people are interested! They even have an interactive feature where for a couple of carbons, you can select some of the torture and the levels. I mean, the higher the level, the more they charge; so unfair!”

Kami grew steadily more alarmed as the woman seemed more interested in complaining about the cost of her cruelty than answering her. Eventually, on receiving only a roll of her friend’s eyes, the woman thrust the phone towards Kami.

Her heart leapt into her mouth as she stared at the screen suddenly held up a little too close to her face for comfort. Her hand flew to her mouth at the sight of Fun Ghoul being repeatedly electrocuted while strapped to a chair bolted to the floor of a completely white room. She was grateful that the sound was turned off; her stomach was already churning and her eyes welled beyond her control as she witnessed his agony. Pushing the phone from her sight, she shook her head silently. She felt utterly distraught for both the sight of Ghoul, his face contorting in excruciating pain, and for the possibility that she had involuntarily given away her feelings.

“See?” Her customer snapped at her friend. “I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to see that!”  
“He’s a rebel,” the woman grumbled at the reaction of both her friend and the shopkeeper. “He deserves it.”  
“I’m sure he does,” Kami forced a response. “And maybe more besides, but I don’t want to see it! And I certainly don’t want to pay for it!”  
“Huh!” The woman shut off her phone and pushed it into her pocket as she turned on her heels and headed for the door.  
“I’m sorry, dear,” the customer took Kami’s hand gently. “She’s not very considerate of anyone who... well... she doesn’t understand.”  
“That’s okay,” Kami nodded. “Everyone’s different.”  
“You look really pale,” The woman appeared concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Kami nodded decisively; all she wanted was for her customer to leave.

“I am,” she nodded again. “I just wasn’t expecting to presented with anything quite so graphic. I think I’ll break for an early lunch.”  
“Good idea,” The woman squeezed Kami’s hand before letting go. “The blouse is beautiful, you’re very talented, you know.”  
“Thanks,” Kami forced a smile, all the while silently urging the woman to leave.

Following her to the door, Kami was relieved to finally close and lock the door. She felt sick at what she had seen and no small amount of guilt for feeling relief that she hadn’t been looking at Jet in that chair. She had to let the others know.

*

It was a subtle and slow beeping noise that bordered on irritating the longer it went of for. Red could hear it, but there was no obvious clue as to from where the sound was emerging. Giving up after four or five double beeps, Red turned an expression of curiosity towards Kobra, whose attention was firmly on the coffee pot he was filling with too much coffee.

“Hey! Caffeine Kid, what’s that noise?”  
“Huh?”

Kobra turned his head, at first hearing the words but not fully making any meaning from it. As the words finally filtered through, so did the noise.

“I said...” Red began only to stop short as Kobra’s eyes widened and he darted past her to behind the counter where the old cash register still stood gathering dust.

As he ran Jet’s ears pricked and he turned his head towards both the sound and the blur of yellow and black. Pushing himself to his feet, he ignored the pain from his shoulder and headed for the counter. Party, too, looked over but was held in place by Death Defying’s stern glare as he continued examining him.

Lifting the satellite phone’s receiver and switching on a scrambling device adjacent to it, Kobra answered, his tone one of concern. Jet’s expression as he looked on lay somewhere between a frown of concern and curiosity.

“Go for Kobra.”  
“What’s wrong?” Red whispered in Jet’s direction.  
“Scrambled satellite phone,” he began. “There’s only about four people who have the number and it’s only used for emergencies,” he explained.  
“Kami, hi, what’s up?” Kobra’s voice audibly calmer than it had been. “Hang on, I’ll put you on speaker.”

Pausing for a few moments with his hand hovering over the switch, Kobra’s brow creased as he listened to her reply.

“Uh... yeah, he’s... Okay.”

Assuming the call was for him and possibly private, Jet took a couple of steps closer only to receive a wave from Kobra that suggested that he should wait. Exchanging glances, Jet and Red looked at each other, both shrugging, puzzled by what was happening.

“Oh, Ghoul?” Kobra let out a sigh of relief that it was something he already knew about. “Yeah, we know. The doc’s patching us up, so when we’re fit we’ll go get him. It’s not ideal, I know but it’s okay, she won’t hurt him.”

Another brief pause led to more explanation.

“Evelyn Hart, the crazy museum woman? She took him... oh, you mean the patching up? Jet and Party got hurt in the... Oh, what then?”

Another pause, longer this time.

“What?” Kobra gasped. “Are you sure?”

Kobra closed his eyes as she relayed what she had witnessed on the woman’s phone. Now it made complete sense to him that she didn’t want to be placed on speaker and why she had asked if Party was nearby.

“I don’t understand... how did...?” Kobra paused as Kami explained that that was all she knew but would do her best to find out more. “Okay, we’re going now...”

Kobra pulled the receiver away from his ear briefly as Kami grew suddenly agitated.

“I know I said we were... but that was when we thought.. No... but we don’t have a choice any more.” Kobra sighed; he sounded deflated. “Sure, hang on.”

Turning to see all eyes were on him, Kobra explained as briefly as possible as he held the phone out to Jet.

“Korse has got Ghoul. He’s torturing him live on a new BLI interactive TV channel. Kami wants to talk to you.”

Jet’s eyes glazed at the sudden and shocking news. Had they been wrong? But if Ghoul had been taken from the diner by BLI, why just him? It could only have been Hart, but how had Korse known? Surely she wouldn’t have handed him over willingly? Taking the phone from Kobra’s hand. Jet put his muddle of thoughts to one side to speak to Kami. Behind him, Party was trying hard to stand but being pushed back into his seat by the older man.

“Kobra! Get over here!” The doctor called. “I can’t keep him still!”

Uncertain what to do for the best, but deciding to give her brother some privacy, Red followed Kobra to where Party sat, fidgeting impatiently.

“Make sure the gun batteries are charged,” Party called to his brother as he approached.  
“Done it! They’re at max.” Jet replied forgetting to move the phone from his mouth as he shouted.  
_“Jet!” Came the mildly annoyed voice down the phone._  
“Sorry,” he replied genuinely contrite. “Sorry, baby, I’m kinda blindsided here.”  
_“I know, sorry,” she replied quietly. “I am too. Kobra said you’re hurt. What happened?”_  
“Where are the backups?” Red called back to Jet.

Reluctant to shout back again, Jet signalled, pointing to the general direction of a metal box behind the practice dummies. Repeating the hand gestures, Red followed the direction only to look back to see Jet shaking his head in frustration and pointing to the left of where she stood.

_“Jet, sweetheart, answer her. It’s okay.”_  
“I’m sorry,” he sighed, pulling the phone away and covering the mouthpiece. “In a metal box behind Dummy One, the key’s in its... ah, left ankle... actual left, not your left.”  
“Thanks!” Red gave a thumbs up sign, allowing Jet to return to his conversation.  
“Kam, are you okay?” He asked, his brow creased with concern.  
_“Me? I’m...” Kami sighed. She had been so concerned at the news that Jet was injured that she hadn’t even considered her own feelings. “I feel physically sick, actually. This woman just pushed her phone in my face and there he was - tied to a chair, being electrocuted over and over!”_

Jet heard the catch in her voice and knew from just that one sound that tears were already forming in her eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’ll be there in just a few hours, don’t worry.”  
_“You can’t,” she replied, surprised by the words. “Kobra said you’re injured. How are you? What happened?”_  
“There was an explosion after Ghoul was taken, Party and me took the brunt of it. He’s concussed and I’ve banged up my shoulder.”  
_“Explosion!” Kami gasped at the news, now more than ever wanting to see Jet to check on his condition with her own eyes._  
“Yeah,” Jet sighed. “Hart definitely took Ghoul... or more likely her gorilla, Sorby. They took him out in a helicopter after a guy in a car hit him with a tranq dart. It was the car that blew up as it drove off. If I had to guess, Sorby was getting rid of witnesses.”  
_“But... they left you all alive? Wouldn’t they know you’d go after him?”_

Jet frowned deeply; Kami had a point. It didn’t make sense, unless...

“Unless they wanted us to.”  
_“Unless that’s what they wanted?”_

Jet and Kami spoke almost simultaneously, confirming each other’s fears.

“I think we need to have a word with the crazy museum lady,” Jet growled.  
_“What?” Kami replied alarmed. “You’re actually going to walk willingly into whatever trap she’s set for you?”_  
“That wasn’t exactly the plan,” Jet corrected calmly.  
_“Well, you better calm that other hothead down, or that’s exactly what you’ll be doing.”_

Out of the corner of his eye, Jet could see Kobra complaining about something to Party and receiving only smirks and rolling eye responses in return.

“I wondered what it was that made him suddenly so sullen,” Jet chuckled. “Doesn’t take much, does it?”  
_“Jet, I’m serious,” her voice suddenly pleading for attention._  
“We won’t be taking any risks, baby. I promise.”  
_“Yes you will,” Kami sighed. “I know you will. Just... stay alive. Please!”_  
“We will,” he replied firmly. “I gotta go. Love you, Kam.”  
“ _I love you too, Jet.”_

As she replaced the handset, a pang of guilt rushed through her as she realised that as much as she loved them all, in that moment her words had been specifically for Jet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely readers. Sorry again for the delay - uni stuff. It’s taking forever to find time to write, but I need to do it, it’s quite relaxing, so I maintain that it helps the uni work too :D
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Poor sweet Ghoul :( He doesn’t deserve any of this, he’s too perfect! :(
> 
> Hugs  
> Sas xx


	5. Escape?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul takes an opportunity to escape

He had no idea how long it had been since the last electric shock but it felt like a very long time and now Fun Ghoul dared to believe that the torture might finally be over. With a slight sigh of relief, he sagged in the chair, aching and exhausted, with only the strap across his chest holding him upright. Every now and again a muscle still twitched and his breathing hitched in response as the panic rose in him once more. His head rolled forward and he sighed with the effort of trying to raise it once more. Finally accepting his weakness, he allowed it to simply hang, and closing his eyes he tried to slow his breathing once more. His heart was still beating; he could feel it, almost hear it. Quite how it was still beating he wasn’t certain but he was glad of it despite the pain - reminding himself that if he could feel pain, he knew he was still alive.

The silence in the room was suffocating and although part of him was relieved that he was no longer filling that silence with his own screams, Ghoul hated it. He loathed silence. He feared it. It took him back to the days long past when his guardian would lock him in a closet and leave him all day. At first he would cry and beg to be released, but he soon learned that even if his guardian were even there, which seemed unlikely, no one was going to come to his aid. He would spend entire days locked in those tiny closets with only silence, all the time knowing that when his guardian did return, he would be drunk and looking for any excuse to beat him. As a young boy of six, he couldn’t help it if he soiled himself after spending all day without access to a bathroom and not only would it be uncomfortable and humiliating, but he would certainly suffer for it physically too. Escaping to live with Gerard and Mikey when he was eight had literally been a life-saving decision, but by then the damage was done. As the brothers’ guardian, Korse had come to know their young friend, Frankie, in the time he lived with them in Battery City. Now he was his prisoner and with deep fear and trepidation he realised that Korse was aware of all his weaknesses. Was it too much to hope that he had forgotten?

He almost looked up as the door to the small room slid open. His natural curiosity and sense of self-preservation almost insisted on it. But there was a deeper preservation at work - one that would possibly offer him the element of surprise. He heard the dull pad of boots on the vinyl flooring and through his eyelashes he could see the legs of what he knew was Exterminator Korse. He had stopped half way between the door and where Ghoul was seated. Staring and smiling with the look of a man who held all the power and was absolutely in control. Ghoul couldn’t see his face, but somehow he knew the expression that covered it; he’d seen it a thousand times before - not only on Korse but others just like him.

Walking forward again and stopping in front of Ghoul, Korse looked down and emitted a low, throaty chuckle.

“So then, Fun Ghoul, what’s your plan? You pretend to be unconscious, I untie you and you overpower me? Is that it?”

Ghoul said nothing. Replying would only confirm Korse’s suspicions.

“Very well,” Korse continued with audible contempt, “I’ll play along.”

Reaching for the buckles on the straps, Korse made short work of releasing Ghoul from their hold.

“Well?” He prompted. “Aren’t you going to attack me now? It’s just me, there are no guards.”

Ghoul, furious at the man’s goading and now even more determined, summoned all his energy and launched himself from the chair. In moments, without even managing to lay a hand on the exterminator he landed in a crumpled heap on the floor at Korse’s feet; the cruel man’s laughter assaulting his ears. Using his right foot to push Ghoul onto his back with barely any resistance, Korse continued to laugh at the look of drained exhaustion on the young Killjoy’s face.

“What’s the matter, Ghoul? Muscles not working?” He chuckled.  
“You knew that would happen,” frustrated by his weakness, Ghoul’s expression was an angry and bitter scowl as he stared up helplessly. It had been more a statement than a question, and laced with a venomous edge.  
“Of course I knew,” Korse raised an eyebrow, aiming a disdainful sneer at his prisoner. “Have you ever known me to take unnecessary risks?”

Ghoul looked up, his expression one of thoughtful astonishment. It was as if he was seeing the exterminator for the first time. Behind his sneer, Korse felt momentarily confused; there was something about Ghoul’s reaction that unnerved him somehow.

“That’ll be your downfall, Korse,” Ghoul warned, still lying on the floor unable to move.  
“You’re in an odd position to talk to me about reprisals, Killjoy,” Korse shook his head, regaining his self-satisfied expression. “No, I think I have things... or should I say you, very much under control.”

Behind him, three draculoids entered the room, standing and waiting about ten feet from Korse, awaiting instructions.

“Take him to Sensory Five.” He spoke to the draculoids without turning his simultaneously cold yet smug expression away from the Killjoy. “Let’s see how he copes with that.” Korse grinned with a sly affectation plucking at the corners of his mouth.

“Televised, sir?” One of the draculoids asked.

Korse adopted a thoughtful pose, holding his right elbow close to his side with his left hand, he tapped his lips with the index finger of his right.

“Yes,” he thought for a few more moments. “Use program two and bind his hands behind him.”  
“Yes, sir,” the draculoid replied.

Moving forward, the draculoid who had spoken flipped Ghoul over onto his stomach, winding him slightly. Grabbing the Killjoy’s arms he began to pull them behind his back, but to his surprise, Ghoul managed to pull his right arm free. Amazed to have regained control over his arms, Ghoul used his right arm to lever himself onto his back before reaching up to grab the draculoid by his shirt before taking a swing at him. His fist collided with the side of the draculoid’s face, but the impact was negligible compared with the usual power he was able to manage. The return punch was enough to daze him and in moments he was once again on his stomach with his hands behind him. Lifted to his feet two draculoids linked his arms and half dragged, half walked him, stumbling towards his next torture.

“I will kill you, Korse,” he spat, turning his head to look directly at the exterminator.  
“No, you won’t,” Korse replied smugly. “Poison won’t let you, will he?”

Ghoul frowned angrily; it was true, Party had always insisted that they didn’t kill the exterminator. He knew why, but right now he really didn’t care what Party wanted. Struggling weakly in the draculoids grip as he was dragged out of the small room, he yelled back:

“I _will_ kill you, Korse! No matter what you think!”

*

It was a short walk to the elevator and Ghoul was biding his time. With every passing second he was feeling stronger. He was never going to reach full strength without a lot of rest but he hoped that he didn’t need full strength and that whatever he could manage would be enough. Although, even he had to admit that with his hands locked behind him, his chances and options were limited but he refused to simply go with them without a fight. Pushed into the elevator, Ghoul turned to face the doors, scowling as two draculoids stood to his right and one to his left. Did it really need three of them? The draculoid nearest to the doors pressed the button for the seventh floor and waited. Ghoul was tense, waiting for his chance - if he could get away from his escort, then perhaps there was a chance. Discreetly, Ghoul slowly turned until he was standing with his right shoulder facing the doors; he would make his move soon. As the doors began to close, Ghoul waited until they were roughly twelve to fourteen inches apart and launched himself through the gap. Managing to squeeze through the gap, almost bouncing off the right hand door, Ghoullost his balance as the doors continued to close. Stumbling forward, he fell, crashing awkwardly into the wall ahead of him. Behind him, as he had hoped, all three draculoids headed for the still closing gap at once, colliding with each other and watching with frustration as the door closed, with their prisoner loose in the corridor. Pressing the door open button frantically, they were too late and the elevator was already heading upwards.

Gathering his senses, Ghoul looked up as he forced himself to stand. Frowning in confusion, Ghoul pressed himself against the wall as the corridor seemed to tilt sharply and he realised that he was seeing double.

“Damn it!” He snapped as his senses swam.

Alarms wailed all around him and he knew that no matter how he felt, he had to try to head for the exit. Taking a long, deep breath Ghoul assessed where he was. He had visited the BLI offices only once before and that had been as a child, taken there to identify the body of his cruel and vicious guardian. As much as he had wanted him dead, he felt it a painful and even scary task to be asked to identify the body, especially as he had lain in the alley he was found in for several days at least having been partly devoured by rats. Ghoul remembered that, on seeing him, somehow the decaying and part eaten body didn’t seem nearly as scary as it had when he had been alive. However, the sight was still unpleasant and he had suffered nightmares as a result. Despite his visit to the offices being over twenty years previous, Ghoul still had a good sense of where he was and how to find his way to one of the staff exits - his main objective being to avoid the main lobby, which he knew would be impossible to pass through. Pushing himself away from the wall, Ghoul staggered briefly before heading along the long corridor. The draculoids if not already returned to the floor he was on would have at the very least informed everyone where he was, he knew he had to get off this particular floor if he were to hide or escape. Ducking through a door leading to a flight of stairs, Ghoul headed down, edging his way by leaning on the wall as he negotiated the steps. There was something about looking down that seemed to disorientate him even more and the stairs moved repeatedly in and out of focus. Tentatively, he lowered a foot down to the next step, determined to make his way down. His first foot landed solidly enough, but his racing heart was causing his blood to rush a little too fast making him feel all the more dizzy. Behind him, he heard shouts; they were already looking for him on this floor. Grimacing as the stairs moved in and out of focus, Ghoul quickly realised that he had no choice, he had to try and he had to do it quickly. Taking another step, he sighed his relief as he successfully descended two more steps. It was then his heel caught on the lip of the next step. Losing his footing once more, Ghoul moved forward, desperate to find his balance but instead found his foot moving through the air with no step beneath it. All too soon, he realised that he was tipping forward too far to recover his equilibrium and found himself falling forward, bouncing off both the steps and the wall, rolling and tumbling out of control with no way to break his fall. He landed almost as suddenly as he had begun to fall, slamming into the wall with bone-shaking force. He had no choice but to lie still. Firstly, all the air had been knocked from his lungs and he was gasping for breath. Secondly, the jarring of his back and head against the wall, combined with his already swimming senses, were overwhelming and the spinning and tilting sensations were enough to make himself keep still purely to avoid being physically sick. There was nothing to be done; above him he heard the door to the stairwell opening and the clatter of boots on the steps. Before they had even laid a hand on him, Ghoul was mercifully unconscious. For the time being he was away from whatever pain and torture they had planned for him but he had no idea what he would wake to - if, indeed, he did.


	6. I’ve Just Seen a Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys are already suspicious of Bob (aka Coffin Dancer) but he manages to make it worse for himself

“No!” Dr Death Defying insisted again. “Neither of you are going anywhere.”  
“But, Ghoul!” Party slurred, gesturing weakly with his arms. “Didn’t you hear what Kami said?”  
“I heard,” Death Defying nodded. “But do you hear yourself?”  
“What?” Party frowned.

Death Defying frowned; what exactly was Party’s question?

“You can’t hear yourself?” He asked returning his voice to its normal volume.  
“I can’t hear you!” Party complained. “Why are you whispering?”  
“He’s not, bro,” Kobra turned a concerned eye towards his brother.  
“Don’t you start!” Party grumbled, glaring at Kobra, but the fixed concerned faces looking back at him suggested that no one was messing with him. “You’re talking normally?” He finally asked, his brow furrowing with the knowledge of what that meant.  
“Yeah, Party,” Red took a step forward, frowning with worry. “Doc, has he lost some of his hearing?”  
“Speak up!” Party snapped irritably.  
“Party!” Death shouted, grabbing his attention.  
“That’s better,” the redhead rolled his eyes.  
“Party, you’ve got partial hearing loss,” the doctor explained loudly. “It could be the explosion, the concussion or both. Either could cause it. Can you hear any irritating noise?”  
“Just you guys,” Party pouted, looking away miserably.  
“Hey, Gingerella!” Red rapped on the table with her knuckles, only stopping when Party looked up angrily through his lashes and pulling his already thin lips into a pale line.  
“What?” He growled.  
“Just because you’re not fit enough to go to the ball, don’t think we’re just going to abandon Prince Charming.”  
“Very nice extended metaphor,” Death nodded his approval. “But I do have a little trouble thinking of Ghoul as Prince Charming,” he added with a half-smirk.  
“More like Prince Charmless,” Kobra chuckled, drawing a smile from Red, that she tried very hard to disguise.  
“What?” Party narrowed his eyes. “What did he say?”  
“Nothing,” Red rolled her eyes; he really was a drama queen.  
“Bottom line, Party?” the doctor looked the redhead in the eyes. “Neither you, nor Jet are going anywhere for the foreseeable future. Kobra and Red can manage.”  
“We have to rescue Ghoul! I have to go!” Party objected, now leaning forward in his seat.  
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man!” Kobra grumbled before slumping back in his seat, in a grumpy sulk, before almost immediately sitting back up again to continue. “And that’s another thing! You gonna let me run a mission now? I thought we’d got past all this!” He added, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “He doesn’t trust me,” he muttered quietly to himself. “Never has!”  
“Oh, will you listen to yourselves!” A voice called from the diner entrance.

In less than a moment, all guns were drawn and aimed at the newcomer. Standing in the doorway, his arms folded and grinning widely in amusement stood Bob Bryar, known to them only as Coffin Dancer or more widely in the Zones as The Sad Man. Silent until now, Jet looked up with alarm - this was one man he definitely wanted to keep away from Red. Coffin Dancer, as far as they were aware, worked for whoever he wanted to, whenever he wanted to. The only moral code he claimed to have was that he would never give information to the Killjoys and also to BLI. Any actions taken by them based on his information would, in theory, be unknown to their hated enemy. Kobra turned an angry glare in the direction of the man at the doorway. Without lowering his gun, he raced towards the man who lost his grin as he approached.

“Kobra, man, what’s wrong?” Bob raised his hands defensively in front of him.

Without a word, Kobra spun sharply and landed a boot with force into the man’s chest, propelling him backwards out of the diner, where he landed heavily in the sand. Gasping for breath as the combination of the kick and the painful landing drove the air from his lungs, he lay bewildered, weak and defenceless as Kobra followed him out.

Sharing a surprised glance, Red and Jet both looked at Party who stared back, equally confused. Rising to his feet, Jet turned as Red moved to follow him.

“Stay with Party,” he instructed before heading for the door.  
“Why?” Red objected with an indignant tone.

Jet turned, somewhat frustrated that he had to explain everything. His shoulders sagged and a look of exhausted urgency on his face.

“Just...” he shook his head, indicating with both hands that she should stay put. “Please.”

Rushing outside, he found Kobra sitting astride the blond man, pummelling his face. To his credit, Bob was trying hard to defend himself, but was no match for the martial arts expert.

“Jet!” Bob cried, alarmed at the severity of the beating, especially as he had no understanding of why.  
“Kobra?” Jet cut in quietly as he placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.  
“What?” Kobra asked, landing a final punch before sitting upright and turning his head to look at Jet.  
“Have you established whether or not he knew?” Jet asked without enthusiasm.  
“I kinda guessed he’d deny it if he did,” Kobra replied, ignoring the man lying prone beneath him.  
“It’s a good point,” Jet replied looking down at the man he knew as Coffin. “Well?”  
“Knew what?” Bob asked in a panicked voice. “What do you think I’ve done?”  
“You gave us instructions to rescue Party,” Jet began, pausing to gauge his reaction.  
“Yeah,” Bob’s eyes flitted from Jet to Kobra and back. Relieved that Kobra had finally stopped hitting him, but still not daring to try to move. “And?” He prompted, before his eyes widened still further. “Did someone get hurt? Is that how they got Ghoul?”

Clearly the wrong thing to say, Kobra launched into a revitalised attack.

“No!” Bob shouted. “Stop! I didn’t do anything!”  
“Kobra,” Jet repeated himself.  
“Jet,” Kobra sighed, sitting back once more and looking up. “I’m kinda busy here.”  
“I see that,” Jet replied casually, “but I wonder if we should listen to what he has to say first?”  
“Yes!” Bob mumbled; his cheeks and eyes swelling from the constant pounding. “Listen to Jet, please!”  
“You think?” Kobra shrugged. “What if he lies to us?”

Jet placed a hand on the butt of his gun before looking directly into the blond man’s blue eyes.

“We’ll kill him.”  
“Jet, man, what the hell have I done?” Bob called up, licking the blood from his newly split lip.  
“You tell me, Coffin,” Jet raised an eyebrow as Kobra pushed himself to his feet, _accidentally_ kicking the prone man as he did. Leaning over to help the blond man stand, Jet continued. “We’ve got a lot of questions for you and you better get them right.”

Bob brushed the sand off his clothes, frowning as every movement caused him pain. Removing his jacket so he could brush the back of it, he looked at Kobra through narrowed eyes.

“Guilty until proven innocent? Is that it?” He snapped.  
“Something like that, yeah,” Kobra glared back. “Oh, and there’s a woman in there that if you even look sideways at, we’re going for round two. Understand?”

Jet looked on approvingly; Kobra’s threat was much more to the point and convincing than his version would have been. Not that Kobra meant it more, but Coffin had just had a taste of what could happen and Jet was pretty sure he would do everything to avoid an encore.

“For crying out loud, man! What do you think I am? I’m not gonna try anything with your girl!”  
“Woman,” Jet corrected, leaning in and pointing a finger at him.  
“What?” Bob smirked. “You share her?”

He didn’t see the fist, even Kobra didn’t, but Bob lay dazed on the floor once again. Kobra offered Jet an approving grin and offered a high five which Jet, at first, reluctantly returned. It took a lot to get Jet that angry, but Coffin had crossed a serious line he didn’t take even know was there. The two Killjoys reached down and dragged him back to his feet, Jet picking up the man’s dropped jacket before pushing it against his chest. Bob, still woozy, held onto the jacket, barely aware of what it was as he was pulled into the diner.

Once the doors were again closed and the three were no longer back-lit, the other occupants could see the extent of the damage done to the man’s face. Red frowned as she noticed the blood around his mouth and cheek, but her eyes widened when she saw blood on Jet’s right hand. Catching the glance, Jet looked at his hand before wiping it on Bob’s jacket.

“Don’t worry,” he offered by way of explanation. “It’s his.”

Red cocked her head and stared at the newcomer, now sufficiently recovered to walk unaided. He was, at first, trying not to make eye contact but he found himself staring back, a questioning look on his face.

“Who’s this then?” Red asked, noting the sudden discomfort, even tension in the room.

Dr Death Defying was staring intently at the newcomer. With his shades on, it was impossible to know what he was thinking or feeling, but the sudden stiffness in his posture suggested he was either angry or filled with hatred - possibly both. Glancing over at Party, Red found his expression both impassive and unreadable. The silence was palpable and Red found herself growing more and more irritated by the stranger’s returned stare. She didn’t appreciate being looked at for any length of time by a complete stranger and, beginning to feel uncomfortable with both the staring and a lack of a response, she took a few steps toward him.

“Who are you and why are you looking at me?” She demanded in a clipped tone.

Bob looked down before glancing at both Jet and Kobra, afraid of a reprise of the earlier beating.

“I... I’m not...” he stepped to the side, away from the two men and raised his hands. “I’m not.”  
“Yes you were!” Red folded her arms across her chest. “Now spill before I finish off what they started!”  
“I would if I were you, man,” Party piped up. “She’s not bluffing!”  
“I... I think I know you from somewhere,” Bob replied. “That’s all. You look familiar.”  
“Oh, please!” Red rolled her eyes. “That old chestnut?”  
“Really,” Bob cut in. “I’m telling...”

He paused, frowning as he stared harder, only stopping when Kobra seized him by the throat and pushed him back against the wall of a booth.

“What did I just tell you not to do, Coffin?” He growled.  
“Ah!” Red tipped her head. “So you’re Coffin Dancer.”

Bob turned his head in surprise at the recognition of his name, only to have his head pulled back sharply to face Kobra.

“Dude, do I have to start on you again?”  
“No!” Bob replied, his voice raising significantly in pitch. “Look, I’m serious, man. I know where I’ve seen her!”

Bob reached into one of the pockets of his jacket, only to pause immediately as several guns were again pointed at him. Staring down the barrel of Kobra’s ray gun, sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“Dude, I’m just getting something out of my pocket. It’s just a flyer, okay?”  
“Slowly,” Kobra replied through gritted teeth.

Nodding enthusiastically, Bob slowly removed his hand from the jacket pocket, a folded and slightly crumpled piece of paper gripped between his fingers.

“Here,” Bob nodded again, handing the paper to the angry Killjoy.

Jet stepped forward, snatching the paper from his hands, seeing it as a ploy to force Kobra to release him. Opening the sheet of paper, Jet’s eyes widened and he took a long deep breath.

“Where did you get this?” He asked.  
“What is it?” Kobra asked, relaxing his hold, but not letting go.  
“Where did you get it?” Jet repeated himself, yelling this time.  
“They’re all over the Zones, man,” Bob replied, pulling back in surprise at Jet’s fury. “I just picked one up, that’s all.”  
“Why?” Jet moved closer, holding the sheet up for Kobra to see. “What do you need it for?”

Bob tried to reply but couldn’t as on seeing the paper, Kobra’s grip tightened once again; the pair watching as the man’s face began to redden. Gasping and choking, Bob’s fingers clutched at Kobra’s as he fought to breathe.

“For Pete’s sake, Kobra, you got to let the man...” Red began closing the gap between her and the three men.

Suddenly spotting the flyer was enough to stop her mid-sentence but far from shocking her, she grinned broadly and snatched the paper from Jet’s hand. Turning she held the flyer aloft for all to see, grinning broadly.

“I’m a fully-fledged Killjoy now!” She cried, elated, beaming a smile and receiving looks of consternation from Kobra and Jet. “Does it get my good side?” She continued holding the flyer up to her face.  
“Your picture on an extermination poster is not something to celebrate!” Jet scolded; he and Kobra turning away from Bob, now almost forgotten.  
“Are you kidding?” She almost danced with excitement. “I’m a real Killjoy now!”  
“Yeah,” Party rolled his eyes. “Hundreds of faceless drones want to kill you. You’ve made it!”  
“Says the poster boy for the whole of the Zones!” Red replied placing a hand on her hip and tilting her head in an additional effort to convey her sarcasm.  
“It was gonna happen, Jet,” Death Defying offered. “As soon as that android saw her, it was inevitable.”

Jet turned sharply back to look at Bob, swiftly followed by Kobra.

“Which brings us back to you!” He addressed him, almost spitting the words.  
“What? What do you think I’ve done?” Bob replied bewildered.

Behind them, Red was examining the poster and suddenly stiffened, her face morphing into a deep frown.

“Wait a minute!” She snapped angrily. “There’s a zero missing!”

Jet and Kobra, almost in unison, turned their heads slowly to look at the irritated young woman, now stabbing a finger at the bottom of the flyer.

“What?” Jet sighed.  
“The reward!” She pouted. “There’s a zero missing. It says a hundred thousand carbons,” she explained, appearing insulted. “All yours are one million! That’s not fair!”

Jet threw his arms out to the side, unable to believe her perspective on the poster.

“Red, it’s bad enough you’re on a poster,” he replied in dismay. “What, you’re complaining about the size of the bounty? You really got to rethink your priorities!”  
“BLI are never going to pay out a million,” Bob interrupted. “Everyone knows that. Yours is much more realistic.”  
“Kobra,” Jet sighed.

Bob didn’t see it coming. He may not even have felt it, but later, when he woke, he certainly would.

“Thanks,” Jet added simply.  
“My pleasure,” Kobra replied.

Jet looked down and inhaled deeply, calming slowly.

“If we’re going after Ghoul, we gotta fix the car. We have to get Larry to look at it, we’re going to need parts.” Kobra took the conversation back to the original subject before Coffin Dancer arrived.  
“Take the van, bring him back,” Death suggested, throwing the keys to Kobra. “That’ll be quicker.”  
“And we’ll find out what he knows about that android and Ghoul for that matter. It’s no coincidence he turned up now.”

Kobra nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”


	7. Larry’s Auto Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul’s torture continues and Kobra makes a new friend

Fun Ghoul groaned softly; his head was hurting, and his back ached. If he had to guess, he would say that the bulk of the pain had probably begun due to his fall down the stairs - a memory that was very much in the forefront of his mind. He was seated in what felt like a semi-reclined chair, that much he’d worked out so far, but the feel of it was very different to the chair in which he was being electrocuted earlier. The last time he saw Korse, the exterminator had ordered him taken to a place called ‘Sensory 5’. He had no idea what that was, but he knew without question that it would be unpleasant.

The room was pitch black and he could see nothing, hear nothing, but there was something... He frowned as he squinted, trying hard to see in the blackness. Someone was there. He hadn’t lived as a Killjoy for so long without developing a sort of sixth sense; but there was nothing paranormal about this feeling. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, prickling and raising the tension in his muscles. He scanned the impenetrable darkness to no avail. Feeling somewhat on a back foot, Ghoul was frustrated that whoever was in the room with him, and he realised that it may have been more than one person, they knew he was awake. He had made a sound, his breathing had changed; yes, they knew he was awake.

Remaining absolutely still, Ghoul held his breath and there it was - somewhere in the room, someone else had taken a single breath before they too held theirs.

“I know you’re here,” he finally announced, allowing himself to breathe once more.

Waiting for a reply but being met only with silence, Ghoul moved to stand, only to feel resistance as he did. It was hardly unexpected, but the limitation of his ability to move was. Unable even to bend his fingers, Ghoul gritted his teeth and tried to pull against whatever was holding him to the chair. As he did, the sensations he felt told him where the restraints lay. Ankles, thighs, waist, wrists, upper arms and chest, head and most surprisingly, his hands and fingers were held flat against the unusually wide arm of the chair. He now noted that the chair was padded.

“What do you want?” He asked, trying hard to control the slight shake in his voice.

Trapped in the dark; memories of being locked in the closet were beginning to surface for him and, as much as he tried to control his feelings, his heart rate began to increase. Somewhere to his right he heard a beeping sound and as his breathing grew deeper and slower in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves, he knew that the beeping sound was mirroring his heart rate. Thumping in his chest, his heart seemed to be in a race with the monitor, as one speeded up, so did the other. Swallowing nervously, Ghoul felt suddenly lightheaded as his heart raced beyond his control.

“What do you want?” He shouted this time, gasping as he snatched at breaths in his panic.

Taking a long, slow, deep breath, Ghoul exhaled equally slowly, trying to force a calm in himself. A few shallower breaths later, he heard the monitor begin to slow and with it, he felt his shoulders relaxing slightly. He began his question again, but slowly this time:

“What do you...”

Ghoul broke off, squinting in the sudden brilliance of two spotlights aimed directly at him. Slowly becoming accustomed to the light, but still, for a while at least, having to partially close his eyes against the glare, he looked around as far as he could see moving only his eyes. Still nobody moved into view.

“So, this is Sensory 5, is it?” He asked, hoping to elicit some sort of response.  
“No.”

Ghoul’s eyes darted to the area from where he believed the sound had come, scouring the darkness beyond the bright light and seeing only a pair of legs, the rest remaining obscured by the light.

“Who are you?” Ghoul asked.  
“My name is Gustav Yu.”  
“Where am I? What do you want.”

The man stepped from the shadows; a tall, thin man, balding on top with a shock of white hair over his ears. Walking slowly over towards where Ghoul was held in what he now realised was an electrically adjustable padded chair, the man moved with an obvious limp and trailed his left leg, apparently stiff and unbending.

“My brief is a simple one,” he replied, offering a smile that suggested pleasure, but only for him. “I am to break you... mentally. Physically too, if I wish, but certainly mentally.”  
“And you think that’ll be simple, do you?” Ghoul mustered all his strength to not show the man his fear.  
“Oh, yes,” the man laughed. “You’re not my first, you know.”

Ghoul took a deep breath and let it go in a gasp as the room lights came fully on and the spotlights were switched off.

“As you can see,” Yu indicated the equipment around him. “Exterminator Korse has seen to it that I am fully equipped.”

Ghoul looked around as much as he was able. A variety of machines stood nearby that gave nothing away of their usage, but he could see other instruments on shelves that had an obvious purpose. Many were types of tools of various occupations: claw hammers, electrical pads, dentist drills, fish and butcher hooks, wire, a vice or two. Ghoul swallowed hard as he saw a variety of bottles holding an assortment of liquids and powders but what scared him most of all was the device near both his hands. As he looked down, he saw his fingers held flat to the arm of the chair, circled with interwoven leather straps at both knuckles holding his fingers completely immobile. Aimed at each finger a device with four syringes on both sides ready filled with a bluish liquid.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” Yu chuckled almost gleefully.

To Ghoul’s horror, he could only stare as the needles moved forward and found their targets. Perfectly lined up to enter the space between his fingers and fingernails, Ghoul first screwed up his face in a vain attempt to prevent the scream bursting from within. As the needles moved deeper, his resolve collapsed and the ragged cry of pain and shock forced its way through his lips, dragging a deeper, somewhat gravelly growl of anguish with it. Ghoul’s breathing came in snatched gasps as he tried to pull away, to no avail. His chest rose and fell in a patternless flurry as he tried to take control of himself but another shredded cry ruined his concentration as a new feeling of deep, burning and stabbing overcame him. Staring at the syringes, his eyes widened in terror, he saw the plungers injecting him with their contents. An icy cold sensation ran up his fingers into his arms. As it reached his elbows, it was as if his lower arms were being crushed and no amount of struggling allowed him any relief. He hadn’t even noticed Yu moving closer until the pads and wires were attached to his temples. He looked up alarmed and fearful only to be met with the expression of a man who was clearly enjoying himself.

“Before I’m finished with you, Fun Ghoul, you will work for BLI. You will infiltrate the Killjoys and you will bring them down from within.”  
“No,” Ghoul gasped. “No, I won’t! I’ll die first!”  
“No,” Yu laughed, shaking his head in mock pity. “You’ll die after.”

He may have said more, but if he did, Ghoul couldn’t hear him. The flick of a switch was sending waves of electricity through the pads attached to his temples and his own agonised screams drowned out any more words.

*

Kobra pulled up at the rear of Larry’s Auto Shop, having surveyed the front from a distance. There were no obvious visitors, but anyone could easily have been inside and he was taking no chances.

Stepping down from the van, Kobra unfastened his holster’s retaining strap to allow a quick draw if he needed to and approached the rear door. Larry was a man of habit and Kobra knew that the rear door would be open during the day to enable him to reach the supply building behind the main garage. Slipping quietly inside, Kobra kept to the shadows before moving stealthily towards the mechanic pit near the front entrance. Seeing no one but a pair of legs protruding from under a car, Kobra relaxed - good, Larry was alone.

“Larry?” He called, carefully watching the pair of legs.  
“Yeah?”

Kobra spun, suddenly alert, gun in hand as a man appeared from behind a wall of tyres holding a mug of coffee.

“Dude!” The man cried, jolting at the sight of the red raygun aimed directly at him, but also concerned for his slightly burned and coffee-covered fingers.

Kobra exhaled deeply, sending a look of exasperation toward the mechanic.

“Man, do you have a death wish or something?” Kobra snapped.  
“What? You come into my place of business, call me and you’re surprised when I answer? I’m not the one you should be questioning!”  
“I thought that was you!” Kobra replied pointing to the set of legs on the garage floor.  
“Huh!” Larry aimed a disgruntled glare at the young Killjoy. “Tina!”

Kobra watched in astonishment as the person rolled out from under the vehicle, her long brown hair tied up in a messy bun and wearing goggles. Pushing herself to her feet and removing the goggles, almost knocking her hair into a lopsided ponytail as she did.

“Who’s your friend, Larry?” She asked extending a greasy hand towards Kobra. “He’s...” she began looking him up and down. “... cute.”  
“He’s off limits,” Larry countered.  
“Ah, not another one of yours? How come you get all the cute ones?”

Kobra grinned as the woman flashed a smile and a wink at him.

“Go have your lunch break, Tina,” Larry growled back.  
“Lunch? It’s ten-thirty!” Tina countered, leaning in and giving first Larry, then Kobra a kiss on the cheek.  
“Go!” Larry insisted.  
“Okay,” she raised her hands in defeat. “I got a damn hangover anyway, so I could use a lie down.”  
“You better have been working on that car, not just lying underneath it!” Larry stormed.  
“What do you think?” She raised an eyebrow. Turning back to Kobra she added. “I get off at six, cutie. I know how to party.”  
“No!” Larry admonished.  
“I wasn’t talking to you,” she sighed heavily at the raised volume. “I was talking to the walking jawline. Six, baby.” She blew a kiss and addressed her last words to Kobra before leaving the room.  
“Family?” Kobra asked with raised eyebrows.  
“Niece,” Larry sighed, leading Kobra towards his office. “How did you know?”  
“I recognised the family dynamic,” Kobra grinned. “That and there’s no way you’d take that from a regular employee.”  
“Yeah,” Larry shrugged. “I’m borderline with family,” he added, shaking his head.

Leading the way into the office - little more than a walled off area of the garage, starkly furnished with a battered desk and a couple of chairs, a telephone and a coffee pot - Larry flopped down into the chair nearest the desk and almost sagged into it.

“Help yourself to something that tastes vaguely like coffee if you have a good imagination.”

Kobra smirked; nothing this far out tasted of coffee. Lifting the pot he reached for the nearest mug before swapping it for another that didn’t have its own ecosystem growing inside it. Pouring himself half a cup, he raised the pot to Larry who, on glancing in his own mug, extended his arm to get a refill.

“Thanks,” Kobra raised his mug in a silent toast.  
“You won’t be saying that in a minute,” Larry chuckled as almost immediately Kobra’s face creased with disgust at the foul and bitter taste of whatever he was drinking.  
“Larry,” Kobra finally looked up. “No one, and I include Party in this, has got a good enough imagination to think this tastes of coffee.”

Larry looked down into the mug before shrugging his shoulders.

“I guess I’m used to it.”  
“You look tired, Larry.”  
“Thanks, Kid, just what I needed to hear. Got any more pearls of wisdom before I toss you out on your ear?”  
“Need you, Larry,” Kobra took another sip of the hot something. “Car’s been sabotaged and we need it urgently.”

Larry frowned deeply and nodded his head.

“I heard,” he replied solemnly. “How are you going to get him back?”  
“By force if we have to, but first we have to get there.”  
“How did you get here?” Larry offered a puzzled frown.  
“D’s van, but we need something fast and powerful.”  
“What’s happened to your car?”  
“All I know is there’s a split cable and there’s no oil, but there might be more.”  
“Which cable?” Larry took a swig from his mug.  
“I don’t know! That’s your job!”  
“Help me out here, Kobra. How do I know what to bring?”  
“Bring everything! What doesn’t fit in your van can go in D’s. I’m serious, Larry, we have to get the trans am moving as soon as.”

Larry took a deep sigh. He knew that Ghoul was the mechanic of their group and that anything he said was only going to further highlight the fact that he had been taken by BLI. Nobody, least of all Kobra, needed that point pressed.

“Okay,” he got to his feet. “Give us ten, maybe fifteen minutes to load up and we’ll be with you.”  
“No, just you,” Kobra frowned, alarmed at the idea.  
“Kobra...”  
“No, Larry, just you,” he insisted.  
“Kobra!” Larry cut across him sharply. “I’m pushing sixty. My eyesight isn’t what it was and I need the extra pair of hands these days.”  
“I can...”  
“I need someone who knows what they’re doing,” Larry replied, eliciting a deep frown from the younger man. “You got a lot of talents, Kid, but engines isn’t one of them. I’ve seen how you drive that thing and if you knew anything about engines... well let’s just say, you’re not their friend.”  
“All right, but she’s blindfolded all the way,” Kobra insisted.  
“Really?” Larry almost laughed until he realised the younger man was serious. “Okay, okay. We’ll follow you in fifteen minutes.”  
“Blindfolded, Larry,” Kobra warned.  
“Both of us or just Tina?” Larry smirked.

Kobra rolled his eyes and nodded.

“I’ll wait outside.”


	8. Interrogations and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffin sees a side of Jet that he never expected to and what does Party mean?

Fun Ghoul’s chest rose and fell in sharp jerky movements as he snatched at short gasps of breaths that seemed determined to try to elude him. They were shallow, barely allowing any air into his lungs. His vision was blurred and unstable and the room, or at least what he could see of it, both looked and felt as if it were spinning. He groaned weakly, closing his eyes before another surge of electricity pulsed through him, and a ragged agonised scream tore through his parched and pain shredded throat. He could hear a voice. Somehow he could hear it plainly and yet he was unable to decipher the words. Whoever or whatever was speaking - human or recording - it had done so relentlessly for at least two hours. 

During that time, he had been repeatedly electrocuted and beaten viciously, sometimes with fists, sometimes with some sort of club and had suffered extensive bruising and bleeding all over his body. One eye was closed from so much abuse and he could no longer see clearly at all - partly from the swelling and partly from the tears that had forced their way into his eyes as the relentless assault slowly wore him down. The last blow from the club had cracked at least two ribs. He had felt more than heard the sickening snap of the bones as they gave way under the force of the blow and it had been this that bore the majority of the blame for his sudden breathing difficulties. He wanted so much to pass out, to end his conscious bearing of the seemingly endless torture, but this man, Gustav Yu, knew exactly what he was doing and was managing to maintain both Ghoul’s consciousness and his suffering at its highest possible level.

Ghoul’s mind reeled as another jolt of electricity fired - only three seconds this time, but tearing through the electrodes attached either side of a thick rubber bar forced inside his mouth to hold it wide open. The sudden and unexpected electric charge in such a sensitive area elicited a loud, long and high-pitched scream from the Killjoy, the sound eventually tapering into a low, distressed gurgle. The rubber bar thankfully prevented his teeth from breaking, but the sensitive nerves within each tooth seemed to explode with sharp, needle-like stabbing sensations that penetrated upwards into his brain making it feel as if they were trying to force their way out through the top of his head. 

Sweat poured down his forehead and cheeks, mingling with the tears of desperation and agony that he could no longer hold back. Moments later, his head shuddered violently as yet another charge was fired through clamps attached to his ears, drawing a deep, throaty sigh and a soft whimper as the initial sensation and pain subsided.

Gustav stared down at his subject, smirking cruelly as the monotonous droning recorded voice continued its repeated statement. Even now, with no immediate torture, Ghoul still couldn’t decipher the words. Not because they were muffled or distorted in any way, but purely because his brain was simply unable to perform the simple task of hearing them. Every syllable seemed ill-defined and discordant; but he didn’t care. He was exhausted, in excruciating pain and the cocktail of drugs that had been injected into him only served to heighten his despair. Numbing, caused by his complete immobilisation for several hours, meant that he could no longer feel the chair in which he was seated - in fact, he no longer felt connected to anything except the incessant pain.

“Take him to his cell,” Gustav finally spoke, to a detachment of draculoids that had only now been allowed into the room. “No food, water or medication. Understood?”  
“Yes, sir,” one of the draculoids replied.  
“If there are any comforts in his cell, remove them,” he instructed.

The draculoid almost snorted, indignant at the suggestion.

“No comforts, sir, just a basic bunk and a chemical toilet, that’s all.”  
“Remove the bunk and any blankets or pillows. He can sleep on the floor.”  
“Yes, sir,” the draculoid’s tone altered, taken aback by the idea that the cell’s bunk would be considered some sort of luxury.

Stepping forward to release Ghoul from the chair, the draculoid looked down at their prisoner. Behind his mask, even the draculoid’s eyes widened at the condition of the young man. Almost unrecognisable from the vicious attack he had endured, Ghoul cried out softly, with what little energy he could muster as two of the draculoids removed the straps and clamps fastened to him and lifted him from the chair. Unable to walk, or even try to coordinate his limbs, he could only allow them to hold him upright by his arms and literally drag him for the brief journey back to his cell. 

Almost as an afterthought, Gustav called after them as they left the room.

“Switch off any heating to his cell. If you can, make it cold.”  
“You can have any temperature you want,” the draculoid who had already spoken replied without enthusiasm.  
“Thirty degrees,” Gustav smirked. “Two below freezing. Let’s see how he copes with that.”  
“Sir,” the draculoid nodded.

He knew better than to argue, or even to show his shock at the man’s condition. He knew, of course, that Ghoul was a rebel, and a notorious one at that, but there were still rules governing the treatment of prisoners that even BLI were expected to adhere to. It seemed they had set out to break every one, but, he wasn’t going to lose his life or even his job for a rebel.

Before they had even arrived at the door to the cell, Ghoul had been claimed by merciful unconsciousness and was spared the shock and distress of being, at the very least, dumped if not thrown into his cell. Unknown to the young Killjoy, the draculoids lowered him to the floor with surprising gentleness, before stepping over him to retrieve the stark bunk with its thin mattress and blanket. What little comfort it might have offered was denied to him, but in his current condition, it was unlikely to even have mattered.

*

Party enjoyed the occasional afternoon of entertainment. Leaning back in the booth bench with a snack and a bottle of precious water, he watched, smirking and allowing an occasional chuckle to pass his lips. 

“I remember when I was a kid and we had a TV in Bat City,” Party leaned towards Red who was sitting with her feet up next to him. “There was never anything this good to watch.”

Red raised an eyebrow as she turned her head, surprised to see his expression. His eyes were glazed, and his mouth was forming a slight lopsided smirk. He looked drunk; Red frowned - was this an after effect of the concussion? Turning a concerned glance towards Dr Death Defying, her frown softened into a knowing smile as he looked back, smirking as he raised a small pill bottle and gave it a light shake. Turning back to look at Party, Red couldn’t help but grin as he leaned in once more to offer a conspiratorial whisper. 

“He’s been wanting to do that for ages, you know?” He chuckled lightly before continuing. “So has Kobra, but to tell the truth, I think it’s a lot safer letting Jet do it; he’s got a lot of natural reserve.”  
“Reserve is not something Kobra’s best known for,” Red agreed with light laugh that encouraged a delighted giggle from the redhead.   
“He’s really not,” he agreed in reply. “You wanna know a secret?”  
“Always,” Red replied, enjoying this very relaxed and uninhibited version of Party.

Party laughed quietly to himself, raising a hand to his mouth giving the indication that his next statement would be a major revelation. 

“Neither am I,” He chuckled.   
“No!” Red replied in exaggerated astonishment.   
“No, it’s true, really,” he nodded, not hearing the sarcasm in her tone. “I spent so long being careful. I had to, just to... Well, you know.”

Red frowned; she really didn’t know. 

“Go on,” she encouraged.   
“Well, I don’t know which was worse. Being the face of BLI or Korse making me be a rebel.”  
“Korse... What?”

Party turned his head to look at Red. Creasing his brow, he stared hard as if he was trying hard to remember something. Finally shaking his head, his eyes glazed again. 

“I don’t miss TV,” he continued with a shrug waving a hand at what was going on across the room. “This is better.”

Red continued to frown as Party turned back to watch Jet interrogating Coffin Dancer. What exactly had he just told her? She made a mental note to have a discussion with Dr Death Defying to find out more about the medication he had given to Party. 

Across the room, oblivious to Red’s concern, Jet was rounding on Coffin with another barrage of questions. Seated on the end of a booth seat with Jet leaning over him, Coffin was looking up with a bewildered expression fixed firmly on his face.

“So, why don’t you tell me about the information you gave us for rescuing Party?”  
“Jet, I don’t understand,” he replied pointing across the room. “Party’s right there! Clearly there was nothing wrong with the information I gave you.”  
“Nothing wrong?” Jet’s volume raised with his pitch. “You call sending us into the BLI cells to rescue an android version of Party intent on killing us, as nothing wrong with your information?”

Coffin stared, blankly at first and then with increasing panic.

“A-android? You’re sure?”   
“I think the fact it self-destructed gave it away,” Jet snarled. “Party’s pretty reckless at times, but he’s never done that!”  
“Jet, I swear,” Coffin’s eyes widened, the blue of his iris entirely surrounded by white. “I didn’t know! When have I ever given you bad information?”  
“Well, that’s just it, Coffin,” Jet seized the man’s shirt and pulled him forward in the chair. “We don’t know, do we? Skip the static, Coffin! Whose side are you really on?”

Coffin Dancer grimaced and glared back at the Killjoy; he had never chosen a side and Jet knew it. Shoving Jet’s hand away, he pushed forward in the seat, trying to rise only to be pushed back down again.

“You know the answer to that, Jet!” he growled. “I’m on my side!” he continued, thumping a fist into his own chest. “And I’ve never pretended otherwise! If Korse has found out too, then there’s your answer!”  
“Really? And I suppose you’re going to try to tell me that Ghoul being taken is nothing to do with you either?”  
“Of course I’m going to say that! I did not take Ghoul to BLI!” Coffin yelled in return.

Jet straightened up, sneering at their informant.

“So where did you take him?”  
“That’s not what I meant,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe after all the information I’ve given you over the years that you’re turning on me now. Okay, so it was bad information but that’s not my fault, is it? Can’t you see we were both played by Korse?”

Coffin looked down to the floor as he calmed himself, finally raising what seemed a sincere and concerned expression towards Jet.

“I’m sorry he’s got Ghoul, man, I really am but I had nothing to do with that. I’ll help you get him back.”

Jet frowned; narrowing his eyes he contemplated Coffin’s words. If he was innocent, his help would be useful. If not, he could be leading them all into a trap.

“It’s no coincidence you’re here,” Jet snapped. “Ghoul gets taken and you turn up… carrying an extermination flyer for Red too. You’ll forgive us if we don’t trust you.”  
“After everything I’ve done for you!” Coffin grumbled.  
“We paid you well enough for all your help,” Jet added air quotes to the word help.  
“A guy’s gotta live and information of that type ain’t easy or cheap. It’s not like I don’t have to pay for it myself.”  
“What have you got on Ghoul then? Where is he?” Jet stepped closer to the man, glowering down at him.  
“He’s at BLI,” Coffin shrugged. “My memory will improve with some food,” he added with a half smirk.  
“You’re memory will be gone if you don’t start talking!” Jet yelled forcing his gun into Coffin’s neck and up behind his jaw.

Coffin paled, terrified by the sudden change in the man who he knew to be always the calm one and he found himself trying to pull back only to find Jet following him until he was leaning over him, one hand on the booth’s table and the other pushing the barrel even more forcefully into his neck. Behind him, Red, Party and Death all took sudden deep breaths, their eyes widening at Jet’s decidedly out of character behaviour; although Red was instantly reminded of Jet’s anger with Candy before he killed her. Swinging her legs off the seat, Red moved quickly to Jet’s side, placing a gently hand on his back.

“Jet,” she whispered. “I’m pretty sure he remembers now.”  
“Y-yeah,” Coffin stammered. “I’ll tell you everything, Jet. A freebie. I don’t like that he’s got Ghoul any more than you do.”

Jet lowered his gun before holstering it after a moment of thought. Leaning forward again, he offered a hand to the terrified man to help him up. 

“I’m not playing you, man,” Coffin’s voice shook as he spoke.   
“So, prove me wrong,” Jet replied, calmer but still doubtful of the blond man’s word.

As Coffin pushed himself to his feet, the sound of two vans pulling up outside drew their attention. Almost immediately, Jet’s demeanour changed instantly.

“Kobra’s back,” he nodded, heading for the diner’s main doors to greet him and ensure there were no unexpected visitors.

Red turned her eyes toward the still obviously shaken Coffin Dancer. Looking him up and down with a scowl firmly etched onto her face. He in turn tried not to return the gaze but found himself unable to stop himself. Opening his mouth to speak, he cut himself short as Red raised a finger and shook her head briefly.

“I’ve only ever seen him that angry once and it didn’t work out well for the woman on the end of his gun that day.”  
“Woman?” Coffin raised his eyebrows.  
“Yeah. Oh, and just so you know? You make him that angry again, I’ll kill you myself.”


	9. Ghoul Discovers His Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul finds out what will happen to him and Red stakes her claim

Fun Ghoul opened his eyes half way. His vision was blurred and hazy, but even through the fog covering his eyes, he could see someone kneeling next to him. 

“Who’s there?” He slurred.

The man kneeling at his side looked down nervously. He knew the Killjoy had said something, but the sounds had emerged unintelligible and barely loud enough to hear. Taking comfort in the idea that if Ghoul could barely speak, he was unlikely to be able to attack him.

Far from being able to attack, Ghoul found himself barely able to move. Even opening his eyelids seemed an effort, and moving his head or any limb seemed impossible. His mind began an automatic body check. Testing he had feeling in all areas, and estimating the position and situation of each of his limbs. It seemed an agonisingly slow process as his mind stumbled through with an astonishing lack of coordination.

As he acquainted himself with his aching and pain-racked body, another sensation drew his attention. Something was stinging in the area of his right elbow. Casting his eyes in the general direction of the sharp pain, Ghoul’s eyes finally focused as the syringe was withdrawn. Frowning and confused, he looked up, managing even to roll his head back to take in the figure kneeling next to him.

“Harrison?” His voice croaked out, audible this time. 

The doctor who had previously escaped BLI but was soon captured by Korse and forced to work on a questionable and almost certainly highly illegal project for the chief exterminator, removed the vial filled with Ghoul’s blood. Only now did Ghoul realise that it was the last of three vials, lined up in a chilled container next to Harrison’s knees.

“What are you doing?” The Killjoy asked, his voice still weak.

Gritting his teeth as the doctor ignored him, Ghoul surprised them both with energy he didn’t realise he had as he snatched at Harrison’s lab coat. His grip was weak, but it was enough to startle the doctor.

“What are you doing?” He asked again.

Pulling at Ghoul’s hand and lowering it to the floor, Harrison closed the chilled box next to him and disposed of the syringe.

“We’re checking your DNA,” he replied coldly. “We’re targeting some of the proteins with a modified and highly potent version of Kanslokal. Once attached, it stays attached. Slowly it alters your DNA to incorporate the drug and any offspring will be born with an addiction. When their offspring are born, the DNA will be altered completely and it will no longer be necessary for anyone to take it, they will be automatically and irretrievably loyal to BLI. If it works.”  
“You’re testing it on me?” He asked, now barely conscious once more, the words were barely a whisper.  
“Yeah, when you’re weak enough, anyway.”

Harrison pushed himself to his feet, taking the chilled box with him. As he rose, he thought he heard an almost silent sob from Ghoul. Looking down, he saw that his eyelashes hung heavy with unshed tears and he heaved a sigh. Ghoul had almost certainly realised that his ordeal was far from over and that his sadistic tormentor, Gustav Yu, had more in store for him. Worse still, he knew they wanted him alive. It wasn’t even an interrogation, merely torture for its own sake.

As the doctor looked down, he noticed Ghoul close the fingers of the hand he had held Harrison’s lab coat with. Satisfied, Harrison headed towards the cell door.

Frowning with confusion, Ghoul felt the sharp edged object nestled in his hand and carefully and discreetly examined the contents of his palm. A small neatly folded piece of paper lay clutched within his grasp. Unable to see where the security cameras where, Ghoul pulled his hand closer to his body and pushed the small square of paper into a small tear in the lining of the inside of his jacket. He desperately hoped that it was something that might help him escape and that it would not be seen or found by the BLI drones guarding him.

The exertion of merely hiding the paper exhausted him utterly and it was taking all of his energy to remain conscious. Without even realising it, he passed out once more.

*

Entering the pristine and well-equipped laboratory, Harrison took a deep breath as he saw Professor Lindstrom injecting another rat with a newly modified version of the drug. Almost immediately, the rat began to race uncontrollably around the small cage in ever decreasing circles. Finally, it launch itself at the bars at such speed as to split its fur and skin. Not deterred, the animal continued to crash into the bars until it died from crushing its own skull. The sight was terrifying and he considered the effect the drug might have on humans, and specifically on Fun Ghoul. It was enough to make him shudder.

“Ah!” Lindstrom turned, pulling the rat from the cage and casting it into a chute leading to a furnace. “At last!”

Harrison took a deep breath as he stepped further into the laboratory and presented the blood samples to the scientist.

“The new formula didn’t work then?” He asked, casting a glance at the blood-covered bars of the small cage.  
“Not quite,” she shrugged, “but we are getting closer. I think that maybe the testing on rats is a waste of time. We have no idea if the effect of the drug will be the same on humans.”  
“We can’t risk it yet,” Harrison frowned deeply. “Exterminator Korse wants Fun Ghoul alive.”

Lindstrom turned a sharp and deeply ill-tempered expression toward the other doctor. Somehow her eyes remained unfocused and cold yet they burned through him like lasers. Harrison almost choked as her glacial stare bore through him.

“I am aware of that,” she replied icily. “I have asked for a number of volunteers and Exterminator Korse has obliged me with the use of other BLI prisoners.”  
“You’ll kill them!” Harrison gasped.

Lindstrom stared back, her brow furrowed, almost as if she was confused by Harrison’s comment.

“And?” She asked, pausing for a moment and waiting for a reply. “What’s your point?” She pressed on receiving no answer.  
“You’ll kill them,” he repeated his statement slowly as if in disbelief that she had misunderstood.  
“Yes, I expect I will,” she replied bluntly and with more than a hint of irritation in her tone. “Now is not the time for squeamishness, Dr Harrison. Take the blood samples and place them in the centrifuge. We have a lot to do.”

*

Stepping out of the diner after briefly checking that it was in fact Kobra and Larry arriving, Jet frowned with surprise as he saw a woman climb down from the passenger seat of Larry’s van. As Kobra jumped down from Dr Death Defying’s van, Jet caught his eye and he nodded discreetly towards the woman. 

“Jet,” Larry called, noticing Jet’s concern. “This is Tina, my niece.”  
“Your niece?” Jet walked over to join them, still curious.   
“She’s good with engines,” Larry explained. 

Stepping forward and offering Jet a flirtatious smile.

“I’m great with engines, but he’s to grumpy to admit it.”

As she reached the Killjoy, she greeted him unexpectedly with a kiss on the lips, pulling back almost immediately. 

 

“Well, I don’t know who she is, but she’s got you wrapped around her finger hasn’t she?” She announced with raised eyebrows.   
“I’m sorry, Jet,” Larry sighed as he saw the surprise and indignation in Jet’s eyes. “She’s a little too direct for anyone’s good, sometimes.”

Silently relieved to see Tina moving on to greet Jet as inappropriately as she had with him, possibly more so, Kobra wandered over to join the small group, whilst behind him Red stood in the diner’s doorway. 

“I speak as I find,” Tina replied, winking at Kobra as she spoke.   
“If by that you mean do I care about someone enough not to cheat on her? Then yeah,” Jet growled, irritated by the apparent suggestion that it somehow implied weakness. “I’m not seeing what’s wrong with that,” he added with obvious distaste.  
“Not at all,” Tina smiled broadly. “It’s sweet. Really. I’m sorry, Jet, I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.”  
“Or maybe,” Larry interrupted with an exasperated tone, “just maybe, you shouldn’t just walk up to complete strangers and kiss them full on the lips!”  
“Well,” she smirked. Stepping closer to Kobra and grabbing a handful of his hair to prevent him pulling back, she leaned in quickly to place a lingering kiss on his lips. “You don’t have any objections, do you baby?”

By the time she pulled back, Red was at Kobra’s side and glaring angrily at Tina. Glancing down, Kobra saw her tightly set jaw, clenched fists and how her mouth was drawn into a thin line - she was furious.

“Oh,” Tina laughed. “Who’s the kid?”  
“Kid?” Red forced out, struggling to maintain her composure. “Kobra, who is this?” She asked icily.  
“Oh, you’re such a little gem!” Tina smirked.  
“This is Tina,” Kobra coughed awkwardly. “Larry’s niece. She’s going to help fix the car.”  
“A mechanic?” Red smiled sweetly. “I imagine you spend a lot of time on your back then?”

Larry chuckled lightly to himself as he began to unload the van with items he knew he would need, whatever was wrong. 

“Kid, I spend a lot of time in a lot of positions!” Tina smirked in reply.   
“Well, I’m really glad you’re helping to fix the car, but just so you know, the only position you’ll be taking with Kobra is at least ten feet away from him.”  
“Is that so...?” Tina began, her tone changing quickly to one of defensive anger.   
“Kobra won’t tell you this,” Red interrupted, “because he’s just too nice. But you’ll get on a lot better here if you keep your eyes on the engine and your legs shut! And if you call me kid once more, I’ll take your face off!”  
“You?” Tina laughed as she looked down at the shorter and petite woman. “I’d be impressed if you could take the skin off a custard!”

Without another word, Red spun and displayed a graceful and accurate high kick which stopped suddenly and was held for a few seconds so close to Tina’s eyes that she stiffened in shock and all she could see was Red’s boot tread. Lowering her foot once more with equal grace, Red raised an eyebrow at the now pale and shaken woman. 

“My name’s Red and I don’t expect to hear you call me anything else, okay?”  
“Okay,” Tina replied quietly.   
“Oh and don’t think I don’t know that ‘gem’ is Zone slang for ‘green-eyed monster’, so can it with the sly insults and attitude.”  
“Y-yeah... I’m sorry... I didn’t know about you two,” Tina explained  
“Now you do,” Red calmed her voice. “I’ll put some coffee on. You want some?”  
“Uh... yeah, thanks,” Tina replied, thrown by the sudden change in tone. 

Tina watched silently as Red walked away. Kobra offered a brief smile as Larry called him away to discuss the engine, leaving Tina with Jet. 

“Crazy, much?” She muttered, glancing at Jet for, she hoped, approval.   
“She’s my sister,” Jet replied bluntly. 

Tina pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t know when to shut up do I?” She sighed.   
“Now would be a good time,” Jet nodded. “Look, it’s done, Red means what she says but she won’t hold onto it. We have a bit of a different dynamic here, but you’re Larry’s family, so that makes you okay by default. You don’t need to prove anything, just start again like nothing happened.”  
“Thanks, Jet,” She replied sounding genuinely contrite.   
“It’s fine, how do you take your coffee?”   
“Strong and black, thanks. Same for Larry.”  
“Thanks,” Jet smiled and nodded over her shoulder. “I think you’re needed.”

Nodding, Tina offered her thanks before running over to the damaged trans am to join Larry and Kobra. Jet turned and, stifling a laugh, headed back to the interior of the Diner. 

*

“Doc,” Red called as she entered the diner, “you got a minute?”  
“Sure,” he replied with a nod. “What d’ya need?”

Red glanced briefly at Coffin Dancer and frowned. 

“In private?” She asked looking back to the doctor.   
“Oh, yeah, sure, because I can’t be trusted, can I?” Coffin grumbled. “Never let you down or anything, always been there…”  
“Shut up, Coffin!” Red complained. “This has got nothing to do with you!”  
“Now’s not the time, Coffin, trust me,” Jet added, closing the diner entrance behind him.

Coffin looked up; everyone was on edge, even Jet. That was never a good sign. He nodded silently and went back to sitting back in the booth and reading a copy of Murder Magazine that was lying on the table, occasionally grumbling quietly to himself.

“Sure,” Death replied. “Let’s go to my office.”  
“Oh!” Red rolled her eyes. “I forgot, I’m supposed to be making coffee.”

At the words, Coffin looked up; he really wanted some coffee. Things were finally looking up.

“No worries,” Jet smiled. “I’ll make it, you do what you need to do.”  
“Do you want a hand, Jet?” He asked looking up hopefully.

Jet shrugged; it was good to see Coffin trying to be useful.

“Sure, come on,” he nodded towards the kitchen.

*

Entering the small, cluttered and messy room that doubled as a medicine store and a radio shack, Death Defying wheeled over to his desk and maneuvered himself so his back was to it. Indicating to a second chair to his right, Death watched as she moved a stack of discs and placing them carefully to the side, took a seat.

“What’s up?” he asked.  
“Party…” she frowned. “He said something really strange before.”  
“I imagine he did,” he chuckled. “They were pretty strong painkillers I gave him.”  
“He’s in pain?” Red asked surprised. “I didn’t realise.”  
“Of course not,” Death shrugged. “He really struggles to admit stuff like that.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not really his fault though,” he added cryptically.

Red frowned; Death Defying and at least Party seemed to have a history that he wasn’t explaining, but perhaps that was for another time?

“What did he say?” Death pressed.  
“He said that he used to be the face of BLI and that Korse made him be a rebel.”

Death curled his lips into a thoughtful frown.

“And, what? You’re worried?”   
“Well, it did sound… I guess I…” Red was lost for words. 

Dr Death Defying didn’t seem concerned by this revelation, but surely Party wasn’t faking being a rebel?

“He’s telling the truth, but maybe it’s not what you think?” Death tipped his head and waited for a response.  
“He’s… he’s not…” Red was at a loss to know how to phrase her questions.  
“If you’re asking if he’s part of BLI, the answer’s no. I guess there’s no harm in telling you what happened. Make yourself comfortable, this could take a while.”

Red took a deep breath; what revelations was she about to hear?


	10. Sensory 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul is pushed to breaking point and Dr D tells Red about Party's connection to BLI

Ghoul woke slowly. He still ached in all his muscles and joints and burned where the electrodes had been attached to him. Opening his eyes, he felt relief to find himself still on the floor of his cell and not attached to some hellish machine as had happened so many times.

Drawing in his arms, he attempted to push himself upright. As expected, it proved to be a difficult manoeuvre; his limbs felt weak and as if he were only partly in control. Pressing his palms to the floor dragged a ragged cry from his lips as the tearing of his skin from the injections below his fingernails stung as though happening all over again. Pulling in breaths in quick and shallow gasps, he drew his hands in protectively close to his chest and allowing his half clenched fingers to recover. At the moment of concentrating on his damaged hands, he recalled seeing Harrison. His brow creased as he tried to remember what the context of the meeting had been. It took a few minutes, but eventually he remembered - the vials of blood, the chilling description of the drug they planned to test on him and… the slip of paper.

Looking up, he scanned the room for security cameras, finally spotting them in each corner of the room. Shuffling slowly and carefully, Ghoul edged closer to the wall, closing in on one of the corners. Curling into a protective ball, he pulled the paper from the inside of his jacket, grimacing as his fingers tried to open the folded paper. Allowing his hair to fall over his hand, he disguised it enough that he felt reasonably certain that no one would see what he was doing. Chewing his lip absently, he read the note. 

“Huh,” he almost grunted before adding, to himself, in barely a whisper. “He’ll do anything to save his sorry ass.”

Having nowhere else to put it, he pushed the paper deep into the lining again, hoping that no one had observed him. It was only then that he realised that this room was not his cell. On waking previously, he had noticed that the only fitting in the room had been a toilet, but this room didn’t even have that. Clearly he had been moved, but to where, he had no idea. Deciding to remain huddled in the corner anyway, it seemed a safer option. But no sooner had he drawn that conclusion than he heard the door opening. Remaining unmoving, more out of wilful anger than any plan of attack or escape, Ghoul waited.

“Well now,” the man paused. “I thought you were going to kill me. You don’t appear to be that threatening. Given up, Frankie?”

Ghoul exhaled deeply; he hated this man. Not least for what he was doing to him, but for what he had done to Party, Kobra, Jet and hundreds of others, if not more.

“What do you want, Grant?” Ghoul sneered in response - two could play his game.  
“You will address me as Chief Exterminator Korse, or sir.”

Ghoul gently pushed away from the wall so he rolled to face the opposite direction. Adopting a deeply disinterested expression, he smirked.

“Look around you, Korse. The room is packed wall to wall, floor to ceiling with all the fucks I give.”  
“I suspect,” Korse continued, unmoved, “that you’ll change your mind shortly.”  
“Why? Your torture monkey come up with something new, has he?”  
“When you’re finished in here, that will be the end of your torture. I feel that you have taken sufficient for my needs.”  
“You have really twisted needs,” Ghoul scowled.  
“Perhaps but soon, so will you.”  
“Really? I doubt that.”  
“Doubt if you wish, but it doesn’t change anything. Your body, clearly apart from your mouth, has been weakened to the point that the drug will be effective and once it is, your wayward mind will follow.”

Ghoul stared back, uncertain what he meant and unwilling to ask. Did this mean that they had perfected the drug? Was he about to be subjected to it like a lab rat?

“You might well look concerned,” Korse offered a broad but unpleasant, self-satisfied smile. “Welcome to Sensory 5,” he added, waving an arm to indicate the room, “after all, I did promise.”

Ghoul’s brow creased as he wondered what was so special about this room. As he took a moment to consider, he yelped in pain and added an almost gargling sound as another scream tore through unexpectedly. Trying to roll out of the path of the steam jets that had scalded him only caused more agony, as did trying to use his hands to pull himself away. As he moved, so another series of jets sprung into action. This time his right cheek caught some of the blast and he screamed as his skin reddened and threatened to blister. 

Now not even aware that Korse had again left the room Ghoul tried to shuffle away from the source of his agony and push himself to his feet. It was difficult, but not impossible. Finally rising with a definite tremble in his entire body, Ghoul was suddenly knocked to the floor again as a wide, icy jet of water hit him in the chest. Immediately soaked, Ghoul’s clothes clung to him sending a feeling of being stung by small, ice cold needles. Gasping for breath at the shock, his breathing hitched again as a second jet, this time scalding water hit in the same spot. Pulling his shirt away from his body in an attempt to stop his chest blistering, his hands trembled under the pain already in his fingers being exacerbated by the temperature of the water. As he reeled from the attack, several intense and deafening klaxons began wailing in the room. All were at different pitches and patterns - sirens, beeps, fog horns, one even sounding like a jackhammer and each one vibrated in every cell of his body. Even the lighting in the room changed suddenly to display black and white swirling tunnel patterns on the walls, disorientating and confusing Ghoul to the point where he was no longer able to find his balance. Another jet of steam, followed by a blast of ice water, sent him spinning to the left. As he fell, what felt like a club hit him in the knees and chest simultaneously. Dazed, he looked around to see that sections of the floor had risen and poles with different lengths of wood or metal bars protruding from them where turning sharply and seemingly randomly in different directions. As he moved to avoid one, another crashed into him, the metal bar sending through him a spark of electricity powerful enough to throw him backwards, but only as far as another pole, the wooden clubs crashing across his back, knocking the air from his lungs and throwing him forward once more. Throwing his arms out for balance, his hands gripped one of the metal bars. Instead of an electric shock, this one had been heated to a high temperature. Pulling his hands away quickly, he could only hope they wouldn’t blister. Stumbling back and forth, trying desperately to find a safe spot, Ghoul felt like a ball in a deadly pinball game. Finally sinking to his knees as one of the wooden clubs caught the back of his head, Ghoul was claimed by blessed unconsciousness and was spared the awareness of any subsequent torture.

 

*

Red stared as she chewed her lower lip. Waiting for Dr Death Defying to begin to speak she held her breath; what could Party have been referring to?

“Okay, so bearing in mind we’re going back about twenty years now,” he finally began.

Red nodded in reply but said nothing.

“Right, so you know Korse is Party and Kobra’s uncle?” He asked, trying to work out the best starting position.  
“Yeah,” she nodded again. “Still find that too weird to think about!”  
“You and me, both!” Death agreed. “I don’t know what else you know, so I’ll just tell you everything.” Pausing briefly, he continued. “Okay, so Korse killed their dad in front of them and took them to BLI solely to raise his profile.”  
“How would that raise his profile?” Red frowned, her brow furrowing as she tried to imagine how it would help him.  
“BLI wanted to begin an advertising campaign, and this was all before Mousekat, you understand. They wanted someone the citizens could relate to, someone that would put them in a good, caring, family-style light. They were six and ten, cute kids who, at least he thought, had been fully indoctrinated into the BLI machine. They both, but Party in particular, became the faces of BLI and because he had brought them in, he found favour too. They advertised and endorsed everything. Their happy, angelic faces convincing the public that BLI had everyone’s interests at heart, but they really had no idea how their images were being used. Korse started to doubt Party’s loyalty to BLI and got him hooked on Kanslokal at age thirteen...” Death sighed at the memory. “He nearly killed him.”  
“What happened?” She asked astonished but not surprised at Korse’s cruelty even then.  
“A friend got him out and brought him to me to get him off it.”  
“Did it work?” Red asked tentatively.

Death smiled at her uncertainty and nodded.

“Yeah, it did and he was all set to go back to Bat City.”  
“Back? To Korse?” Red gasped.  
“Yeah,” Death gave a half-smile, recalling the thirteen year old boy’s look of determination. “Brave as hell even then. He wanted to use his position to help people in the Zones.”  
“Did he?” Red’s brow creased as she wondered if Party had kept his promise.  
“He never got the chance,” Death shook his head, a wave of sadness covering his eyes. “Two of my men were taking him back part of the way, meeting up with the friend who’d got him out. They were ambushed by Korse and the then Chief Exterminator Vitkovski.”  
“How did they know?” Red asked, puzzled.  
“Oh, the usual,” Death sighed. “There’s always someone who wants carbons and a bit of luxury more than they want friends. One of the docs in our camp,” he added with almost a snarl. “Fresh out of med school, hated the desert and the rough conditions, but didn’t we all?”  
“It’s worse when it’s a friend,” Red frowned, remembering how Candi and Ice had sold out the Killjoys for money.

Dr Death Defying nodded grimly. “You’re thinking about Candi and Ice?”  
“Yeah,” Red frowned. “Jet was so…” she reached mentally for the right word. “He was really affected by having to kill Candi.  
Death nodded again. “How much do you know about that?” He asked with a curious tilt of his head.  
“I was there,” she replied, surprised he didn’t know.  
“No, I mean, Jet and killing people?”  
“Oh!” She paused as she considered the question. “Not much. Kobra said it’s harder for Jet because he doesn’t have as much hate in him as the rest of them.”

Death raised an eyebrow and shrugged at the suggestion; it was certainly an aspect he had never considered.

“It’s definitely a possibility,” he agreed. “There have been times where I’m not sure Jet’s even capable of hate, but… well, that’s a whole different story. We’ll come back to that another time. Or… no, maybe ask Jet. It should come from him, at least at first.”  
“You want to know what his take is, don’t you?” She smirked, reading his expression of curiosity.  
“You’re observant, I’ll say that for you,” he smiled in return. “Not gonna sneak much past you?”  
“I should hope not,” Red grinned at the exchange. “Anyway, sorry, we’ve gone off track.”

Death’s face morphed immediately into a serious, almost grim expression as he continued.

“Yeah, well, they killed my men and... Party... he’d got pretty close to them while he was with us and he grabbed one of the guns and tried to attack Vitkovski. It didn’t take much for him to overpower Party, he was just a kid and Vitkovski was a big guy, really strong,” Death puffed himself up and held his arms out to look bulky to give some indication of the man’s size. “He was about to kill him as a traitor but Korse intervened.”  
“Korse stopped him killing Party?” Red asked, curious as to how he’d done it without raising alarm bells over his own loyalty.  
“In a manner of speaking,” Death shrugged. “Shot him dead, right between the eyes.”  
“Korse killed the Chief Exterminator to stop him killing Party?” Red was open-mouthed at the idea that Korse had protected his nephew despite everything. “So, he has got some feelings?”  
“He might have had... once,” Death shrugged. “But I suggest you reserve judgement until you’ve heard the rest. You want my opinion? Korse set Vitkovski up, as much as my men were. With him dead, Korse dragged Party back to Bat City, and straight into the BLI cells. By that point he knew for sure that his indoctrination hadn’t worked and he was set to try again. With three years’ advances in technology, he was pretty confident it would work second time around.”  
“But...” Red frowned. “It didn’t...? What happened?”  
“Well,” Death sighed, “first of all, as far as BLI were concerned, he’d rescued a supposedly brainwashed Party from rebels and killed them but not before they,” he emphasised with air quotes, “tragically killed Vitkovski. So, he was hailed a hero and promoted to Chief Exterminator.”  
“A hero!” Red gasped. “He’s nothing but a coward!”  
“And that’s where he made a crucial mistake, because, of course Party knew the truth and if he couldn’t break him, he was in danger.”  
“He couldn’t break him?” Red’s voice was almost a whisper by this point.  
“No, so he had to get rid of him and, to cut a long story short, Party ended up back with me along with Kobra and Ghoul.”  
“He sent them to you? But...?” Red frowned; it seemed unlikely somehow.  
“Ah, no... not quite. Party was supposed to be taken out to the desert and shot. He wasn’t going to just let him go, he just wasn’t going to pull the trigger himself. The man who got Party out in the first place managed it again and got Kobra and Ghoul out too. A bit tricky, but he did it.”  
“What happened to him?” Red asked quietly.  
“He died some time back,” Death looked suddenly sad, staring down at nothing.  
“I’m sorry,” Red whispered.  
Death shrugged and smiled wistfully. “Natural causes. Not many of them in the Zones these days.”

Red took Death’s hand and squeezed it lightly as she stared up at him.

“Thank you for telling me. It sounds like it has some really sad memories for you.”

Death took a deep breath and met her gaze.

“Happy ones too,” he smiled and nodded. “Go on, I gotta sort a few things out back here. They’ll be wondering where you are.”

Red was hesitant; he seemed so subdued and melancholy that she found herself not wanting to leave.

“It’s okay... I’m fine. If there’s any coffee...” he added trying to lighten the mood.  
“Sure, I’ll bring some through,” she smiled in return.


	11. Treachery and Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Killjoys are betrayed and Lindstrom’s serum is finally ready

Red Star emerged into the diner’s seating area near the side entrance. It seemed now to be empty except for Party, who was leaning forward on the table, his head resting on his arms and gently snoring with a half empty coffee mug resting on a folded piece of paper and sitting on the table next to him. Red chuckled quietly to herself; the rest would certainly do him good, but he would surely be better resting in his bed. Noting no sounds coming from the kitchen, she assumed everyone was now outside helping Larry with the car.

Rounding the corner to head for the kitchen to fetch coffee for Dr Death Defying, Red pulled up sharply, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening in shock. Near the diner’s double doors, Jet lay partly on the floor and partly propped up against Coffin Dancer’s right leg. His head was pulled so far back, Red couldn’t see if his eyes were open or not and the tip of Coffin’s teal coloured ray gun was forced into his neck. Automatically, Red glanced beyond the double doors leading outside, where she knew everyone else must be, before Coffin called her attention back.

“Don’t say a word and throw your gun on the floor, over there,” he smirked, nodding to the other side of the room. “Everyone’s unconscious; must have been a bad batch of coffee.”

Red stared at him with a curious mixture of fury and fear, livid at what he had done but scared for Jet’s safety. Removing her purple and green painted gun from her holster with just two fingers, she tossed it aside, keeping both eyes on the blond man in front of her.

“I know Death Defying is still awake, but if you make a sound to alert him, I’ll kill your brother. Got it?”

Red stared back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“No one told you that Jet’s my brother,” she frowned, keeping her voice low so as not to endanger Jet further.

Coffin smirked; it was the sort of superior, gloating smirk that you just wanted to wipe off - violently.

“Well, maybe I already knew?” He chuckled. “Put these on,” he added throwing a set of handcuffs and ankle restraints over to her.

Bending to pick them up, Red knew there was nothing she could do to prevent whatever was going to happen. All of the Killjoys were drugged and unconscious, Dr Death Defying was in the motel section of the diner, but even if he came through, it seemed likely that Coffin would kill him to achieve what he was planning. Looking at the restraints, she sighed; once they were on she knew she could not attack, but with a gun to Jet’s head, she had little choice. Fastening the cuffs around her ankles, she moved to stand only to be stopped.

“Ah, ah,” he warned, “I want to hear at least three more clicks with each one.”

Scowling furiously, Red bent down and tightened the restraints.

“Happy now?” She growled, her livid expression raising a smile from Coffin.  
“Oh, yes,” he confirmed. “Now, wrists.”

Fastening one cuff on her right wrist, Red was about to attach the other only to be interrupted once more.

“Now, you know I meant behind you, don’t you?” He laughed at her obvious distress and anger. “Now, turn around so I can see you’re doing it properly. You don’t want me to kill Jet, do you?”

Red looked over her shoulder; her expression one of sheer ferocity.

“No,” she snapped. “But I will kill you. Slowly and painfully.”  
“Just put the restraints on and shut up. Save me the effort of gagging you.”

Red closed the cuff on her left hand, and hearing jet drop to the floor, she turned sharply.

“What now?” She glared angrily at Coffin. “Who are you working for?”  
“Who do you think?” Coffin smirked.  
“You took Ghoul, didn’t you? And made it look like it was Sorby.”  
“It was Sorby,” he shrugged. “Right up to the point that Korse killed him. Better for you, really.”  
“What?” Red’s brow creased in astonishment. “How could that possibly be good for me?”  
“Well, maybe not you specifically, but Sorby had his lecherous eye on Party and you wouldn’t have wanted that, would you?”  
“Don’t even pretend that you have any of our interests at heart,” Red spat with unconcealed loathing.  
“To be fair, I might not have collected on you if the Killjoys had treated me fairly when I arrived. I really didn’t know about the android.”  
“Oh, yeah, right.” She snorted her disdain. “You expect me to believe that?”

Coffin shook his head, a smile on his lips as he did.

“Honestly? I don’t care. Let’s go,” he motioned for her to step outside with him, “before Death Defying doesn’t defy death anymore.”

Frowning deeply, Red knew exactly what he meant and shuffled towards him as he headed to the diner’s double doors.

“What does Korse want with me?” She asked as they reached the diner entrance.  
“Are you serious?” Coffin asked, rolling his eyes. “He has Ghoul, so Party’s under control. Now with you, Jet and Kobra won’t make any moves. The Killjoys are neutralised.”  
“That won’t last,” Red spat the words in distaste.  
“You know?” Coffin began with a grin. “I think he’s banking on that.”  
“What!” Red’s eyes widened, wondering what the exterminator had in mind. “What do you mean?” She continued as he gripped her arm painfully to drag her outside.

Squinting in the sunlight, Red’s eyes slowly grew accustomed to the bright light.

“What do you mean?” She repeated, more insistent this time.  
“Korse gets bored easily,” he chuckled. “This will keep Director Katsumi happy for a while, but when, as you say, they attempt a rescue, he gets to launch Plan B.”  
“And what’s Plan B?” Red asked with curiosity - the more information she had the more likely she could prevent it if she managed to escape.  
“I don’t have specifics, but I think Korse just wants to repay Party for the humiliation and torture he suffered when they left Battery City.”  
“Korse was tortured?” Red stopped suddenly in her tracks, only to be pulled forward again toward’s Coffin’s car parked at the side of the diner furthest from the motel.  
“Of course,” Coffin laughed. “How do you think he’s the way he is? He was committed to the second level of existence.”  
“What’s that exactly?”  
“Surely you’ve heard of the four levels of existence?” He frowned at her as they reached the car.  
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I know what they are,” she shrugged awkwardly.  
“First level - indoctrination, second level - all or selected emotions removed, third level - all or at least most memories removed, fourth level - dead.”

Red gave the information a moment’s thought; was it truly the reason he was the way he was?

“Of course,” Coffin laughed as he opened the trunk, “from what I heard he was a dangerous, self-serving, heartless bastard before he was committed to LE2. Hop in.”

Red glared at the blond man.

“Yeah? What’s your excuse?” She growled.  
“Get in,” he snapped in return.  
“You’re taking me six zones in this heat locked in the trunk?” She gasped in disbelief.

Without a word but with a huff of irritation, Coffin pushed her forcefully, scooping up her legs as she tumbled in, crying out in a combination of pain and shock. Slamming the trunk, he dusted his hands off and quickly ran to the driving seat, heading off in a squeal of metal on metal and a flurry of sand.

*

Fun Ghoul’s head hurt like crazy, as did his hands; stinging as if they were on fire. He was lying down and he was at the very least comfortable but that feeling of comfort was soon dispelled as he heard a voice to his right.

“He’s coming round.”

It was a female voice and one he didn’t recognise, but swiftly followed by a male voice that was very familiar to him.

“About time too,” the man growled impatiently.  
“What now?” Ghoul whispered hoarsely, trying his best to sound bored rather than scared.

The tone, only partially successful was fooling no one, least of all Exterminator Korse who merely chuckled unpleasantly and stepped closer.

“Ah, Fun Ghoul, I’m so glad you asked.”

Ghoul opened his eyes and stared up at his tormentor. Filled with a combination of hatred and fear, it was only then that he realised he was strapped to a padded gurney. He wasn’t entirely surprised, he was hardly expecting to wake in a soft bed with breakfast provided, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Korse had planned for him this time. At the same time, the exterminator’s smug and gloating expression only served to heighten his fear.

“Are you?” Ghoul replied, his tone slightly more convincing this time.  
“Don’t pretend you’re not scared Ghoul,” Korse raised an eyebrow. “I can see by your heartbeat and adrenaline levels how you’re feeling. Let’s see if I can put you at ease.”  
“Put me at ease?” Ghoul scoffed. “Now who’s lying?”

Korse leaned over the younger man menacingly, placing a hand either side of his waist, his eyes boring into him with what seemed to Ghoul to be more than a hint of mania in them. The younger man’s heart rate began to rise simply from the proximity of the man and his deeply threatening demeanour.

“Did I say ease?” Korse smiled, but it was an unnerving and cruel smile when viewed in combination with his cold stare. “You’re right, I didn’t mean that. But what I am going to do is eradicate your rebellious ways, permanently.”

Ghoul paled as he spoke the words. Harrison had already told him about the new Kanslokal serum they were developing that would attach to and could alter DNA. As it was explained to him, the alteration of his DNA would affect any children he fathered, rendering them permanently compliant and loyal to BLI, but Harrison hadn’t mentioned how it would affect him.

“I’m aware that Dr Harrison has explained something of the drug we’re about to use on you, but let me introduce you to Professor Lindstrom who will explain your fate in greater detail.” Korse stood upright once more and indicated to the woman who had spoken on Ghoul’s waking. “Professor?”

The woman stepped closer, her open lab coat revealed her clothes were dark and functional, hanging loose with no attempt at moulding to her slender figure. Her hair, also dark with some flashes of grey scattered throughout was cut in a short but shapeless style. She wore glasses that seemed to have been chosen in haste with no thought for fit or flattery and over the top of them, she was staring harshly at Korse.

“Exterminator Korse, if you wish to terrify the subject, then by all means do so, but I have neither the time nor the inclination. I have work to do,” she pushed Ghoul’s sleeve out of the way and prepared to inject the clear liquid in the syringe she held, “and my time is better spent in the lab and not wasting my time telling him something he won’t even remember after it’s taken effect.”

At another time, Ghoul might have laughed at the scornful response that Korse was subjected to, but now as he looked at the syringe, his face creased in abject terror, he tried desperately to pull away to no avail. The straps holding him, and his right arm in particular, where fastened firmly and there was nothing he could do except struggle in vain.

“Keep still!” She ordered, oblivious to Ghoul’s fear, before pressing down on his arm to hold it in place.  
“No!” He cried as the needle pierced his skin. “No, please! I’ll do anything!” He cried, more as a delaying tactic than out of any real intention to do BLI’s bidding willingly.

As the syringe pump was pressed forcing the liquid into Ghoul’s arm, Korse stepped closer again, a look of gleeful cruelty etched on his face. Turning his gaze to smirk at the terrified Killjoy, he revelled in his terror.

“Yes, Ghoul, you will.” He laughed. “That is entirely the purpose.”

As the serum spread slowly up Ghoul’s arm, he grimaced in pain before a scream of agony burst from his lips. Trying desperately to struggle, as if he could flee from the cause, he writhed, or at least attempted to, on the gurney. His screams punctuated by whimpers, he squeezed his eyes closed and bit down on his lip as his head, the only part of him not held in place, thrashed from side to side.

“P-please,” he begged, his eyelashes dampened by the effort of keeping his eyes tight shut. “I’m on fire!”

Korse turned a concerned glance to Lindstrom who was merely packing the few pieces of equipment she had brought from the lab in a small case. She seemed disinterested in Ghoul’s response, but Korse was well aware that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“Is this supposed to happen?” He asked, concerned that something may have gone wrong.  
“What?” She turned, apparently oblivious to Ghoul’s suffering. Looking down with a dispassionate and indifferent gaze, she tipped her head lightly as if thinking. “Yes, I suppose so.”  
“You suppose?” Korse frowned deeply. “I’m not paying you to suppose. I’m paying you for answers.”

Lindstrom closed the case with what managed to be a sharp passive-aggressive click and turned a cool stare towards the exterminator.

“Exterminator Korse, I have witnessed several responses to the drug with the prisoners I’ve tested it on.”  
“And?” Korse prompted.  
“This reaction falls within expected parameters,” she replied coldly.  
“So,” Korse smirked. “It’s quite painful then?”

Lindstrom glanced from Korse to Ghoul and back again.

“Exterminator Korse,” she began again. “The drug is ravaging and, in part, destroying the make up of his body at cellular level. Of course it’s painful. In fact,” her face momentarily displayed a look of respect for the Killjoy, “he seems to have a very high pain threshold. Most of the prisoners passed out in the first few moments.”

Korse glanced suspiciously at Ghoul, before recalling his ability to survive the torture inflicted on him but even that thought drew another frown.

“He was severely weakened from torture, are you certain this is normal?” He pressed.  
“I’ve tested it on ten men, Exterminator Korse, it’s hardly a statistically viable sample,” she replied with disdain, all but rolling her eyes at the question.  
“Give me your informed guess then,” he replied through gritted teeth.  
“I already have,” she snapped. “But if you want further confirmation, it is possible that the torture he was subjected to has increased his pain tolerance or more specifically his endorphin levels.”  
“Can you test for that?” Korse continued.  
“To what end?” She frowned.

Korse paused; she was right, what did it matter what affect the torture had on him? What mattered was how the serum worked and it was certainly affecting him greatly. Later, a second injection, this time with regular Kanslokal would ensure his compliance. By permanently attaching to the altered DNA, he would be under their control at last. The thought brought a sly smile to Korse’s lips.

“Never mind. When can he have the Kanslokal?”

Lindstrom looked down, Ghoul was silent and no longer struggling.

“He’s unconscious now,” she pursed her lips as she considered the speed of the drug. “An hour, maybe two?”  
“Thank you, Professor, you have been most helpful.”

Nodding, Lindstrom turned had headed back to the laboratory leaving Korse to gloat over his new prize.

“You will finish what I started with Poison and the Killjoys will be killed by their own.”


	12. Look Alive, Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone wakes but with vastly different responses

Ghoul opened his eyes; he felt weak and extremely tired. Looking around he noticed that he was lying on a comfortable bed in a dimly lit room. The room appeared to be sparsely furnished with a small cabinet at the side of the bed, a wardrobe and a table on wheels sitting near the foot of the bed; a jug of water resting on one end.

“A hospital?” Ghoul frowned with confusion as he continued to look around the room.

Hanging from the side of the cabinet was a remote control. Stretching his arm fully, his fingers brushed lightly against it and he was surprised to realise just how draining this simple task was on his pain racked body. Allowing his arm to drop and his shoulders to sag, Ghoul exhaled deeply and with apparent regret and frustration.

“Come on!” He muttered to himself.

Once more stretching to reach the remote, he allowed himself to roll slightly towards it until he finally managed to curl his fingers around it and unhook it from the cabinet. Glancing for longer than he would normally due to extreme fatigue, he eventually found and pressed the call button. Flopping back down onto the bed, he lowered his arm to his side, still clutching the device. He didn’t know how long it was before someone responded as with his eyes again closed, he wasn’t sure if he had drifted off to sleep, but when he opened his eyes once more, a doctor stood at the foot of the bed. Young and slim with soft features and wavy brown hair, cut in a short yet relaxed style, he held a file in his hands and he seemed engrossed - so much so that he didn’t notice that Ghoul was once more awake.

“Where am I?” Ghoul asked; his voice even weaker than he imagined it would be.  
“Ah!” The doctor’s head snapped up. “You’re awake.”  
“Yeah,” Ghoul managed, his voice gravelly and still very quiet.

Closing the file, the doctor moved to left side of the bed and took hold of Ghoul’s wrist as he consulted his watch. Finally lowering his arm, the doctor nodded.

“That’s fine,” he announced. “Considering your condition, your pulse is strong.”  
“What’s my condition?” Ghoul frowned.  
“Well,” the doctor smiled, “before we go into details, I have a few questions for you.”

Ghoul nodded and gave what approximated to a shrug in response.

“Okay,” the doctor opened the file once more and pulled a pen from his pocket. “So, do you remember your name?”

Ghoul frowned and nodded again.

“My name’s Frank,” he replied, closing his eyes once more.  
“Frank, can you stay with me?” The doctor encouraged.

Ghoul took a deep breath and opened his eyes once more, but only managed to force them half way.

“I’m tired,” he replied; the obvious exhaustion heavy on both words.  
“I know and I’m sorry. Just a few questions, then you can rest.”  
“Okay,” Ghoul sighed.  
“Do you remember your last name, Frank?”  
“Iero,” he replied with a tired sigh.  
“Very good,” the doctor smiled. “Where do you live?”

Ghoul hesitated and frowned as he stared back, uncertain what to say.

“I remember two addresses, but I’m not sure either are current.”  
“What are they?”  
“Sixteen twenty four, Battery Tower Nine and Penthouse, City Tower.”

Ghoul shook his head, his frown deepening.

“Neither feels recent,” he glanced up, searching for answers in the doctor’s eyes. “They both feel like they were a long time ago.”  
“Don’t worry. Your age?”

Ghoul stared back, his expression blank and briefly nervous.

“I... I’m not sure... thirties? I’m too tired to work it out.”  
“That’s close enough,” the doctor smiled. “Do you know what your occupation is?”  
“I...” Ghoul frowned again and pursed his lips. “Nothing’s coming to mind, but I want to say some sort of engineer. It feels like what I know.”  
“You’re doing very well, Frank,” the doctor beamed a smile at him before looking down at the file once more. “Just one more question. Do you know where you’ve been for the last twenty years?”  
“What?” Ghoul’s eyes widened at the question and he appeared more than a little afraid. “No! Where? Have I been in prison or something? What...”

Panic set into the young man’s eyes and he looked around frantically, checking to see if the windows were barred or the door locked.

“What’s going on? Where am I?” His pitch raised as he spoke rapidly.  
“It’s okay!” The doctor tried to reassure him. “It’s okay, Frank, you’re in the hospital. You’re safe.”

“The hospital?” Ghoul finally calmed, though he still sounded hesitant.

“What happened to me? Where’ve I been? Why don’t I remember?”

“Do the words Party Poison mean anything to you?” Carmichael asked, looking at his patient once more.  
“No,” Ghoul frowned. “Should it? Is it some sort of drink?”  
“No,” Carmichael shook his head. “Not a drink.”  
“It’s not drugs is it?” Ghoul’s expression grew pained.  
“No, don’t worry, it’s not important at this stage.” The doctor closed the file once more.  
“Where have I been?” Ghoul asked quietly.  
“You’ve been in the desert.”  
“Out in the Zones?”  
“Yes, that’s right.”  
“I don’t remember.” Ghoul looked down. “Twenty years?”  
“Roughly,” the doctor nodded.  
“Doing what?”  
“That, I don’t know, I’m afraid. Someone from the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit will come to see you when you’re more recovered.”  
“S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W?” Ghoul’s eyes widened again. “Seriously?”  
“Yes, but don’t worry, they just want to talk to you.”  
“Oh,” Ghoul nodded, calming quickly.  
“Now then,” the doctor returned his pen to his pocket and smiled again. “I suggest you get yourself some more rest and when you wake up, we’ll sort out some food for you.”  
“Thanks, Doctor,” Ghoul offered a thin but grateful smile before closing his eyes once more.

Relieved to be able to sleep once more, Ghoul didn’t even remember to ask about what the doctor had referred to as ‘his condition’. It was as if it was too much effort to think about, so the detail had slipped away from him. Within moments, even before the door to his room had been closed, Ghoul was asleep once more.

As he entered the corridor, he saw Exterminator Korse waiting for him along the hall near his office. Carmichael nodded to the exterminator as he approached and indicated that he should enter his office.

“Chief Exterminator Korse,” Carmichael greeted him politely, as he pointed to a chair opposite his own at the desk.

Korse looked around the room, he guessed that it was a generic office used by whichever doctor was on duty. The room was functional, containing a desk and chairs, a table with two more chairs, a bookcase stocked with numerous medical reference books, a small window and a coffee pot. There seemed to be nothing of any personal nature, suggesting multi-person use.

“Coffee?” Carmichael asked.  
“Black,” Korse replied tersely.

As the doctor poured two mugs of coffee, he turned to glance at the exterminator, now seated in the chair and waiting, it seemed impatiently, to discuss his patient. His body seemed stiff and his jaw clamped shut, the muscles of his jaw rigid in anticipation. Placing one mug on the coaster in front of Korse, Carmichael took a seat and offered a brief smile.

“So, what would you like to know?” He asked.

Korse immediately sat forward in his seat and grew suddenly animated.

“How did he seem to you?” He asked, keeping the brief open, hoping for a fuller answer, taking a sip of coffee as he listened.  
“He was very weak and tired, lucid, somewhat afraid...”  
“Afraid?” Korse intervened. “Afraid of what?”  
“He can’t remember the last twenty years of his life, Exterminator Korse. That alone would be frightening.”

Korse sat back in the chair once more and interlinked his fingers, raising them to his mouth, tapping his lips in a thoughtful motion as he considered Carmichael’s words.

“Genuinely can’t remember?” He asked, his tone edged in suspicion.  
“It seemed genuine enough to me, but I can’t guarantee that he won’t have some recall as he recovers.”  
“Some recall might actually work in our favour,” Korse mused. “Did you ask him about Party Poison?”  
“I did,” the doctor nodded. “Not only did he claim not to know what it meant, but there didn’t seem to be any flicker of recognition in his eyes.”  
“Good,” Korse drew out the word as a satisfied smile settled on his face. “I want his door locked and a guard on it at all times, I will provide that. If he asks, it’s for his benefit. If, and only if, he presses for more information, tell him that he was rescued from rebels but that’s all you know.”  
“Yes, sir,” Carmichael nodded.  
“Keep a close eye on him, and if he remembers anything of who he really is, I want to know immediately, do you understand?”  
“Yes, sir,” the doctor nodded again. “And, of course, I’ll let you know as soon as he’s sufficiently recovered to speak with you.”

Korse took a long drink from the mug before rising to his feet and offering his hand for the doctor to shake.

“Thank you, Doctor Carmichael, I look forward to hearing from you.”  
“Sir,” Carmichael nodded as Korse swept triumphant from the room.

Allowing a sigh to escape his lips, Carmichael sat down once more and reached for his own coffee, taking a sip of the still warm and caffeine rich beverage. Pulling another patient’s file from the pile in his in tray, the doctor muttered quietly to himself.

“Asshole!”

*

Jet Star opened his eyes slowly and sighed heavily. His right shoulder and arm ached and he found himself grimacing as he tried to sit upright. Only then did he feel the dull throb emanating from the back of his head and forcing him to lie back down once more.

“Jet’s awake!”

He heard the voice and recognised Kobra’s voice - and it was far too loud for his liking. It was hard enough for him to even open his eyes, never mind listen to the excitable younger man.

“Guys!” He yelled again. “He’s awake!”  
“Kobra,” he croaked, still with his eyes closed. “Stop shouting.”  
“What?”

Kobra turned to look at the man still lying, only half awake, on the bed and realised he was probably in some pain.

“Sorry, Jet, you took a nasty blow to the back of your head, you must have one hell of a headache,” Kobra observed in a thoughtful tone before taking on a more urgent sound as he continued. “But, you gotta wake up. We have to know what happened to Red!”

The door, that had been standing ajar, was now opened fully as Party, Death Defying and the two mechanics, Larry and Tina, entered the room, all with concerned expressions and all but the doctor also looking pale and exhausted.

“Red?” Jet frowned, his brow creasing as he searched his memory.

It was as if a light suddenly switched on in his mind and the memories of recent events flooded back. Sitting bolt upright in his panic, his head swam and it seemed that all blood drained from his face in a matter of moments. So dramatic was the change that those closest to him were left wide-eyed and worried as he immediately crashed back down onto his back, groaning with the effort and queasy sensation he had been left with.

“Take it easy, Jet!” Death Defying instructed, moving forward in his chair to examine him. “I don’t want you moving until I’ve checked you over.”  
“What happened?” Kobra asked again, his words clipped and impatient.  
“Kobra,” the doctor admonished. “Give him a minute or two, yeah?”

Jet waved away the doctor’s concern, now deeply worried himself as his memory returned with ever increasing clarity.

“It’s okay,” he confirmed. “I’m okay.”  
“What happened?” Kobra repeated, the stress showing on his face, matched only by Jet’s own.  
“Coffin took some coffee out to the car for you, Larry and Tina and I gave a mug to Party; only one good arm. Red was with Dr D,” he explained. “I noticed Party had fallen asleep a few minutes later, but I didn’t think anything of it other than the rest would do him good. I was thinking about calling Kami but when Coffin came back in, I thought better of it. He seemed really surprised that I wasn’t having any coffee, but I told him we hadn’t made enough. He said he was going to make some more and that’s the last thing I remember. Where’s Red? What’s happened?”

Dr Death Defying looked around. As the only one awake when he had once again found them all unconscious, he was best placed to continue the story.

“Red came through after we talked, but I stayed in my office - I had some stuff to sort out for the next broadcast. I don’t know what happened but when I came through, I found you on the floor with your head bleeding and everyone else sparked out. Again, I might add!” He shook his head in disbelief. “This note was under Party’s mug.”

Death raised the scrap of paper before reading it out loud.

“Hey, guys! So, it seems you don’t trust me any more - I’m disappointed. You should have treated me better. But this is what happens, I guess. Korse wants two of you because he thinks that’ll control you all. He was really specific about who he wanted and now I see why.  
But, call me sentimental if you like, but if you’re prepared to stop treating me like the enemy, I’ll help you get them both back. I’ll be in touch. Coffin.”  
“I’m gonna kill him!” Kobra snapped, furious at the glib message.  
“Get in the queue!” Jet growled.

Death Defying rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“You,” he pointed at Jet, offering a stern expression as he did, “are going nowhere! There’s only Kobra fit enough to make that journey.”  
“And me,” Party offered.  
“Party,” Death sighed. “You’re fitter than Jet, but it’s marginal. You’re not going anywhere either.”  
“I am,” Tina piped up, moving forward to stand next to Kobra.

Kobra frowned and briefly narrowed his eyes.

“You want to help Red?” He asked with a level of doubt in his eyes. “After what she said to you?”  
“This isn’t just a ploy to make a move on Kobra, is it?” Larry asked, his tone laden with suspicion.  
“Oh, my god! You have such a low opinion of me!” She snapped. “Okay, so yeah, he’s cute! There’d be something wrong with me if I didn’t notice but I didn’t know he was taken, because someone,” she turned an accusing stare towards Kobra, “didn’t bother to tell me!”

Kobra offered a sheepish shrug. He could have mentioned Red when at the garage, but hadn’t.

“Look, she had every right to say what she did to me, because as far as she was concerned I was making a move on someone she thought I knew was taken. Bottom line, she’s one of you, and you need all the help you can get right now. So, do we go get her?”

Tina glanced around at the sea of faces and raised an eyebrow to elicit a response. Kobra stepped forward and grinned broadly in admiration of her bravery.

“Let’s make some noise.”


End file.
